Flooding the Acheron
by Unknown-Pessimist-789
Summary: When he heard of her, he thought she was a joke. When she met him, she figured he'd be the perfect "partner in crime". Too bad it took forever for them both to realize how dependent they became on each other. CharonxFLW. Rating is subject to change.
1. Chapter 1: Booze, Bullets, and Blood

When _she_ left Vault 101 in search of her father, Charon was a bouncer in Underworld, the city of ghouls. Being under a strict contract with his employer, Ahzrukhal, he wasn't allowed to speak to the other customers. Ahzrukhal claimed he scared them, but he only really scared them when he was told to throw them out. He didn't think he was very intimidating when he spoke, but whatever floated his employers particular boat, Charon would help it along. For a while, all he could really do was listen about this newly discovered Vault-chick over in Megaton buying guns and scavenging the area around it. Someone said that she cleared out the raider camp at Springvale Elementary, but others argued that, saying she was just a small Vaultie girl and there was no way she could've done that with so little experience. That was about two weeks after she was discovered by the Capital Wasteland's little grapevine that made its way around to Underworld. Quinn, the trader, was the city's connection to the outside world and whenever he came back with Underworld's requested things such as scrap metal and other things the residents paid him to find, he'd talk about what he heard about this little Vault girl. Sometimes, they'd hear about her on GNR, but sometimes Quinn was quicker than Three Dog's sources. Ahzrukhal didn't put on GNR very often, but Charon would always listen hard about this little girl who came from Vault 101. He could only wonder how many times a day she cried because of the sky or because she dirtied her suit. He could only chuckle to himself when he thought about her sobbing in the middle of the wasteland because she got a paper cut.

One day, a ghoul ran into the bar and nearly ran into Patchwork. He whispered something to his friend, which wasn't really a whisper since ghoul's voices are so raspy and vociferous. The entire bar heard it, and Charon believes that Ahzrukhal found it more interesting than his customers did. "The Vault-chick is in Underworld! She's talking to Winthrop now." Charon couldn't wait to see her ripped up face and her frightened expression at all the corpses walking around. He hoped she was a drinker. Then again she was born and raised under a damn rock, how could she be? At the least she would be curious.

An hour later, she arrived. She walked into the bar slowly, cautiously. Charon noticed that first about her; her cautious posture and the way her hand drifted towards the .44 Magnum against her hip. Was that scoped? He couldn't tell from his distance from her; he stood in the corner while she stood in the doorway. Ahzrukhal looked at the newest smoothskin to enter his domain and his decayed face brightened at the sight of her. Her long brown hair drifted over her shoulders instead of tied back like most smoothskin humans seemed to do out in the Wasteland. There were heavy bags under her eyes and the armor she wore under her jeans and shirt seemed to weigh her down. The leather plates on her duster (did she take that from a regulator?) were covered in crusted blood and the gun at her hip looked about to break at the barrel. Still though, despite her damaged equipment she had an air of confidence, a secret knowledge that she could brutally rip apart anyone who opposed her. Charon was almost confused. She looked like the person who took down a whole fort of raiders and looked like the person who single-handedly, in fact, she didn't look like a vault dweller at all! She looked like someone who's been out for a lifetime. She looked like she knew. Could one month and a half do that to a little vault girl? Apparently so...

The Vault-chick went up to the bar and bought a bottle of whiskey, which she took to the table next to Charon. She looked at him warily, just as he looked at her in the same way, and pulled out her gun and set it on the table. Charon growled audibly, signaling to her that it was NOT a good idea. Vaultie looked up at him and raised an eyebrow. "What?" she said. Her voice was raspy, but it wasn't frightened. She looked used to the sight of ghouls. He guessed it was because she's been in Underworld for the past hour.

"Talk to Ahzrukhal." he said, nodding his head at the bartender. His employer looked over briefly to see her gun on the table and his face scrunch up in some kind of emotion. Vaultie looked back and then over at Charon again.

"I just-"

"Talk. To. Ahzrukhal." he repeated again, not giving her any chance to speak to him further. She stood up slowly, holstering her gun yet again while glaring at the ghoul standing by her, and then walked back to the bar. She left her whiskey on the table and her pack next to the chair she sat at earlier, a signal to him that there was no way she was moving from the seat she'd claimed. Charon didn't care where she sat, so long as she didn't shoot up the bar. He turned away from her figure sauntering back over to the holder of his contract and watched Patchwork wander in and out of the bar, looking for either his alcohol or his caps.

"What's with that ghoul in the corner?" she asked loudly, obviously looking for his attention. He looked over briefly and just barely missed the lazy gaze Ahzrukhal gave towards the ghoul guarding his bar. Barely. When Charon looked over, however, Ahzrukhal looked back at his smoothskin customer and spoke in more or less a hushed tone. He couldn't hear it over the bustle of the other customers in the room, but he knew it was about him (obviously, if she called attention to her requested topic of conversation like that). Once or twice, the smoothskin looked back and met Charon's eyes briefly, a thoughtful spark in her green, unruined eyes, and looked back at Ahzrukhal to continue the conversation.

Whatever conversation it was, it wasn't a particularly long one. She walked back over and sat down at the chair she claimed and set her gun down again. Charon narrowed her eyes, but she leaned back and crossed her arms, almost challenging him. "Ahzrukhal said I could repair it while I was here, so long as you're watching and this thing isn't loaded. Sound good to you?" she told him. "Name's Flood, by the way." Charon didn't answer, only crossed his arms in return and leaned against the wall, glancing at his employer. The hideous being by the bar nodded at him and made a gesture with his hand, signaling to Charon to watch the little Vault girl. Without another word, Charon looked down at the girl and watched her repair her gun. But not until after he collected her ammunition for the particular gun. She seemed dejected and a shit load more nervous without her ammo, but she didn't give another fuss.

So she sat there, tinkering away at her gun while looking over her shoulder at the rest of the bar. It occurred to Charon that she hardly fixed anything within the next ten minutes; she was peering around the bar far too often. She jumped whenever the door behind her opened and she eyed anyone who came in the other way, nearest Charon. After said ten minutes, she leaned back and ran a bandaged hand through her ragged hair, tangled and from the many other times she repeated the motion. Was she nervous? Charon watched her shift around in her chair and glance behind her back. A month and a half and she's already paranoid? Quite the development.

After a while she stood and switched from the seat farthest Charon to the one directly in front of him. The ghoul stared down at her and shifted from foot to foot. The Vaultie looked back at him. "You don't mind, do you? I never did like not knowing what was behind me is all. With a bunch of armed people around nowadays, there's more a reason to." she clarified. Charon shrugged and glanced around again. She was very odd, wasn't she? Was she this paranoid before she left her precious Vault? To the many people in the bar, this girl was a mystery. She looked nothing like a Vault girl. She looked like a goddamn bounty hunter! Charon heard a few others talking about how they'd like to talk to her but were too afraid to ask her questions. In fact, one even remarked how intimidating that particular corner of the bar looked with both Charon and Flood there. Ahzrukhal seemed to like the many ghouls coming in to buy something and inconspicuously glance at her while they drank.

"So," Flood started quietly. Charon refocused on the gun and saw the bullets still there on the table and a ripped apart gun. She'd gotten much farther in her work than when she was freaking out about who was behind her. "I know you can't talk to me since you aren't allowed. But I'm bored as hell." The girl seemed to be making sure Ahzrukhal doesn't hear her. He was too busy taking orders from customers anyway. "So while I was sitting here tinkering, I had an idea. I'll say something or ask a question and instead of you answering out loud, you kick my chair." Charon raised an eyebrow and leaned back against the wall. Ahzrukhal did nothing but cater to his customers. "One kick for yes. A harder kick for no. Sound alright? Remember, a light nudge is yes, so kick wisely." Flood had the widest grin on her face from her little pun and turned around to piece her gun back together.

Charon didn't want to get caught indirectly speaking to her. Ahzrukhal had specifically ordered him not to speak to anyone about anything except for the person talking to him to go talk to Ahzrukhal. After that, his employer would get people to leave him alone. So he didn't touch her chair. He just leaned against the wall with his arms crossed. Watching her.

But after a while, Charon was bored. He did want to converse with her, but there was still the matter of Ahzrukhal at hand. Flood looked back at him every so often and watched him watch her then she would go back and piece her gun back together. She was purposely taking a long time, he noticed.

Until, finally, Charon tapped the chair leg with his boot. Flood tensed up from the lack of warning, but leaned back and relaxed with a grin on her face, examining her scope meant for the .44 Magnum.

"So do you like it here?" she asked, making a pretend gun with her right hand and fitting the scope on the invisible weapon with her left. A rougher kick sent her sitting straight up. "No. Got it." Flood turned her chair so she could see him out the corner of her eye. Charon found himself wishing he were the one allowed to speak. Her voice sounded like it was meant to be persistent, and persistent people annoyed him.

"Do you not like it here because of..." she looked around. "the customers?" Another rough kick, but she was prepared for that one. "Hmm, Ahzrukhal?" The bartender looked at Charon at the mention of his name, but looked away when nothing caught his attention. Charon kicked the chair lightly. The smoothskin nodded. "That's understandable. He don't seem very pleasant."

Charon held his tongue when he wanted to say No shit, Sherlock. But he's been ordered to keep silent. So silent he shall stay.

"Okay, how about this one: That contract of yours," Charon inwardly groaned. "You obey everything the person holding that contract says. If your employer hurts you physically, your contract becomes invalid, yeah?" A light tap. Flood was silent as she clicked the last piece of hardware onto her gun, making it fully functional and repaired. "Good."

Flood stood from her chair and sauntered over to the bar again. Her bag remained by the chair and the bullets lay scattered. Ahzrukhal got her a whiskey from under the bar and she gave him caps, but instead of walking away, she sat right on down on a stool and spoke with him. Others in the room looked back between Flood and Charon. Obviously he was the topic of conversation. Charon watched Ahzrukhal smile his bartering smile and lean forward on the bar, clearly interested in this little girl's words. Part of Charon wondered if she were telling him of their "conversation", but another part said she wasn't that bitchy. And then another part just didn't give two shits. So his glossy blue eyes scanned the entire bar and kept a wary gaze on those who are suspicious.

Eventually, the little Vault girl strode back over and smiled up at him that big in-your-face smile. "Hey." she said.

"No." Ahzrukhal was watching. "Talk to-"

Flood shoved a flimsy piece of paper in his face and shouted "Oh no you don't!" On looking customers watched them interact as such. Charon was the most surprised. He took the paper from her hand and read it over. It only took a moment before he recognized it as his contract. Flood pretended to clean her nails in a pompous fashion. The Vaultie was extremely proud of herself. "Read it and rejoice, Charon. You're outta here."

Charon looked up from the paper and into her blazing hazel eyes. Excellent, he thought to himself. Absolutely excellent.

"I personally would like to depart as soon as you want to." As soon as he wanted to? "Anything you gotta do first? People to say bye to or anything?"

"As a matter of fact, yes." Charon replied and strode over to the bar, where Ahzrukhal stood. The ghoul smirked at Charon as he approached and lazily leaned against the bar. He has been waiting for this perfect moment for a long, long time.

"Ah, Charon, come to say goodbye to your old employer?" he said, his posture and self-esteem making him seem high and mighty. But he wasn't, Charon knew that.

"Yes." was the only word he spoke before firing his shotgun into Ahzrukhal's face. Twice. Flood stared dumbfounded with her pack over her left shoulder in a limp-like fashion. He approached her again, holstering his weapon and ignoring the blood on his legs and chest. "Alright. Let's go."

She stared up at him for a moment, looked over at the dead bartender, and back up at him. Then she seemed to just blink away whatever confused her and shrugged it off.

"Alright then. Lemme get my caps back and we'll head on out." She strode past him to collect her caps from his dead body and took some whiskey bottles from the counter. "Right then! Onward!"

The ghouls of Underworld watched the pair as they strode out the entrance, Flood smirking with her hands resting in her deep pockets and Charon following her with his hands at his sides. The inhabitant ghouls watched them stride out with purpose and Charon closed the door behind him, staring at everyone dangerously before closing the door.

After a while, they left Underworld and she led him down into the subways in front of the Museum of History. "I want to get to know you, Charon." she said out of nowhere as they entered through the gate. The ghoul raised a nonexistent eyebrow and looked at her silently, following her lead. "Tell me about yourself. Something you feel comfortable with sharing, though. Don't say anything you don't want to."

He took that as an order and took a moment to choose his words, but which words should he choose to use? "What about me would you like to know, miss?" he asked her, unsure of what to say. What would she want to hear? Her hazel eyes looked back at him through the darkness of the metro tunnels. She stopped walking and stared at him for a long moment, contemplating. He stood there in front of her, watching her scrutinize him. Suddenly, he felt very self-conscious.

She hummed a tune lightly, tapping her foot to an unheard beat. "I'm not sure. Is there anything you want to share upfront? Anything at all?"

Charon thought a moment. "Not particularly, miss." Her lips twitched downward. Had he done something to upset her already?

The young woman chewed on her cheek a bit before looking back at him. "Can you tell me what you enjoy doing? Hobbies when you have the time to yourself?"

He nodded. "I enjoy upgrading my weapons and shooting targets." His employer raised an eyebrow.

"That's it? Do you read books?" she asked, surveying the tunnel around them as if distracted.

"No, miss. I have not a very adequate vocabulary."

"Adequate is a large word. So is vocabulary."

"Yes, they are. What I meant was that I have been taught basic reading skills and writing skills during my training, but there was no time for elaboration into certain aspects. My academics were not very important."

"Oh."

The woman began walking again after their break and they moved. Charon was wondering why the questions. If it was a trust issue, his contract protected her from his betrayal until the contract changed hands. Then he could do what he pleased with her unless his new employer said otherwise. "What he pleased" meant he could kill her if he wished. Of course, she hasn't made an impression that strong yet. So there was nothing for her to worry about anyway.

"Permission to speak freely, miss?"

She halted and looked back at him, an eyebrow raised in a disapproving manner. "You kiddin'? You don't need permission to speak freely. Ever."

"Am I to assume that is a standing order?"

"Uh…yeah sure. Okay. What's on your mind, Charon?"

The ghoul mercenary hesitated before expressing his feelings. "Why did you question me?"

His employer tapped her chin thoughtfully as they stopped just short of the wide lobby area that once teemed with passengers to railroads, but no longer. She turned around and before she could speak a word, a gunshot was fired and grazed her shoulder. Her eyes widened and she spun around, but just barely caught a glimpse of Charon stepping in front of her and aimed at the Raider that shot her. Laughter and screams of pain echoed in the large, underground area. Charon's shotgun nearly made her go deaf as she watched him ruthlessly slaughter everything that posed a threat to her. "Coward!" the ghoul screamed at a fleeing Raider before firing his shotgun once more to murder him. The four Raiders were dead within minutes and Charon, holstering his gun, turned toward her in the middle of the destruction and gore the battle had caused, and wiped his hands on his pants. "Good enough?"

Silence ensued inside the subway, just as it was meant to when the bombs fell upon D.C. Flood looked around the lobby area as if she were examining his work and kicked a chunk of arm Charon had blown from the Raider that shot her, watching it roll down the unmoving escalator. She hummed. Charon felt like an idiot the way she looked at his mess. He took her scrutinizing manner as disapproval and made a note to be less forthcoming with his slaughter when the next time came.

"Why do you need to ask?" Charon's eyes locked with hers as she looked up and raised an eyebrow. "You killed people to keep me safe. Does it matter how messy it is? I personally couldn't give two shits on how the place looks after you kill a few people." The mercenary felt relief. She wasn't as nit-picky as a previous employer he'd once had. The man told him to kill people without letting them bleed too much, otherwise he'd make Charon clean the floors with his shirt if he was too messy. Which was unfortunate because the man instructed Charon to use his shotgun more often than his combat knife.

"Understood, miss." Helen looked at him and sighed heavily.

"Do you really have to call me 'miss' all the time? Can't you just call me by my name?" she asked, rubbing her hands together to keep warm in the cold, dark tunnels.

Charon the mercenary ghoul stepped toward her, away from the gore and destruction he had caused and stood before her as if he were a soldier awaiting his next order. "Do you want me to call you by name instead?"

Flood shrugged. "Well, I mean, I know about your brainwashing stuff and I wasn't sure if it was required by your contract to call me 'miss'. It was an honest question, I think."

"It is not required as a rule. If you wish for me to call you something other than miss, then I shall call you something different." he said to her. Flood bit her lower lip and looked around at the bloody body parts of the recently annihilated raiders.

"Do you want to call me miss?"

"Would you prefer if I called you that?"

She sighed and shrugged. "It's up to you. You're the one saying it."

"You are the one hearing it." Charon was becoming annoyed. If she didn't wish to be called 'miss' then she merely had to say so. If she did want him to, then what was the problem?

"Okay, how about this," she began, turning to face him fully and placed her hands on her hips. "Call me miss whenever we're in one of the more crowded situations and Flood anywhere else. Sound good? That way people know you work for me and we can keep this professionally...professional."

Charon nodded in silent acceptance of her instruction. When there are people, call her miss. When out of the public eye, call her Flood. That worked for him.

Flood nodded her head to herself and started walking to where they came. "By the way, I was on my way to the Museum of Technology. We didn't need to be down here at all." she informed him. Charon was confused. Very confused.

"Then why did we come down here?" he asked, following her back to the surface.

"To see if you were good at killing threats. I needed to know if you were worth 1500 caps."

And worth it he was.

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><p><strong>The whole thing may take a while to update, but everything is planned out. This isn't my first fanfiction. I will respond to all of your reviews at the beginning of the next chapter. If you don't like my pairing, my writing style, or anything else, then just don't read it. I appreciate constructive criticism, not flames. I hope you enjoy my fanfiction! ~UP789<strong>


	2. Chapter 2: Slave

**Review Responses:**

**Thatonechick3: Thank you for the nice review! Practice makes perfect, so if you you're your mind to it, then write your ass off! I started writing when I was in 7****th**** grade, and in 9****th**** grade I still wrote like shit. **

**For all who review: I will reply on the top of every chapter. I will not skip any reviews, even the mean ones I know I'll get for this chapter. I had a serious problem keeping everyone in character. Especially Flood. I really went into depth with her character and that made everything a lot harder to write. ~UP789**

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><p>"Why, Charon," Flood groaned, bags forming under her eyes and beads of sweat falling around her face. "Why does Three Dog want us to move the heaviest thing movable in the wasteland?"<p>

Charon had the heavier part of the disk above his head while Flood held the thinner part above hers. Her coat fluttered behind her and hit Charon's knees as he walked, which distracted him a bit as he held the disk above his head. Yes, why had that stupid DJ requested a fucking satellite dish? Not only had he wanted a satellite dish transported to the Washington Monument, but he also wanted it installed on the very top. Charon prayed for an elevator.

"I mean," Flood continued on her rant. "All Moirarty wanted was a chick dead and some caps. Ahzrukhal wanted caps, but the whole thing wasn't a total loss since you killed him and all. That kid in Grayditch wanted me to kill ants, the useless fuck. Did I mention those ants breathed fucking fire? Ugh, the point is, I don't want to be doing this." She readjusted the satellite end above her and sighed heavily.

Charon grumbled incoherent words under his breath and attempted to get that mother fucking jacket to stop hitting his legs without disrupting the weight balance they had going on. Flood noticed anyway, and stopped to put the satellite down. "If it bothered you, you shoulda said something," she scolded as she removed her jacket and wrapped it around her pack. Charon found himself interested in the coiled snake on the back of the leather jacket that had been underneath her duster. Who had placed it there, was it already there or was it sewn in by someone? "You can't be passive with me unless I tell you otherwise, okay?"

"Yes, Flood."

Flood hoisted the satellite back up. "Close enough for now, I guess." Charon raised an eyebrow that wasn't there and shrugged it off soon after. The woman was confusing. He supposed he'd get used to it soon.

The Washington Monument had gotten closer than Flood last remembered, and when she finally got there and walked through the gates of the elevator when it reached the top, she kept quiet. Not long after she became quiet did Charon learn about her fear of trusting people. It wasn't the height that scared her, it was the falling, and after witnessing Charon kill his previous employer without a moment's hesitation, she began to wonder just exactly how much he wanted to kill her now that she held his contract. So she tied the rope to the elevator and ordered Charon that if he failed to hold the rope and she began to fall, he was to press the down button on the elevator and let it hoist her back up. She also said that if he let go, she was gonna make him carry both packs on the way back to NCR. Which wasn't a punishment in his eyes, but his orders were to not let go. So he wouldn't let go.

"So tell me about life with Ahzrukhal," she said after five minutes of welding the satellite to the side of the tower. He wrapped the rope around his arm a fourth time.

"Not much to tell. I stood in a corner the whole time." he replied, not paying much mind to the conversation she chose to initiate.

"Ow," Flood had hit her head on the satellite looking up at him. "That hurt...anyway, I meant when the bar closed. What happens when it closed?"

"It didn't."

Silence resumed. The only sound of burning metal and wind was heard. That and faint gun shots in the distance.

The welding took three hours and the wiring took two. Flood had a problem with the electronics, and had to scroll through an Electronics magazine to see how to weave wires where and what to connect to what. Charon hadn't once dropped the rope, and thus increased Flood's trust in him. It was a success in his mind, but when he expressed his inability to multitask properly, namely securing the rope while reading the magazine, he felt as though he failed her. Flood didn't seem to mind. She'd said that "it's fine, I think my life is more important than Three Dog's satellite." and that it wasn't a problem. Charon still felt bad, but he supposed it was an upside that he didn't get punished. The guilt ate at him, but he knew he'd get over it.

The wiring wasn't done in the two hours spent on it. They had issues with how to organize the wires and where exactly to attach them. Plus, the sun had set and Flood's Pip-boy didn't give off enough light to light up what she wanted to do. There was one mattress in the corner, where there was still a bit of wall up so no one would shift in their sleep and fall to their death. Charon expected the mattress to be her own, but she hardly went near it. She busied herself with making a fire with scraps from her pack that she found useless, flammable, and something she probably wouldn't be able to sell to the next caravan she saw.

The fire stayed lit for a good majority of the night considering how useful she found most of her flammable objects. Charon would've thought that pencils were useless, but her argument was something along the lines of the lack of weight. The heavy amounts of cigarettes were for her growing addiction and the fact that people would pay lots of money for them. They were getting harder to find and harder to make. People didn't operate factories except for one or two across the country, and caravans in D.C. hardly passed by those places. So people lived on what they could. And it was enough so far.

With a lit cigarette between her teeth and Brahmin meat in her belly, Flood was relaxed with a smile spreading her lips. "So," she said to Charon, who was inspecting his shotgun as if it were a ritual. "We should talk about your contract."

Charon looked up, ceasing his ritual and setting it down gently. "What about my contract?" He didn't want to be fired so early into the job. Had he done something wrong? Perhaps she didn't find him an adequate bodyguard.

Flood threw a chunk of cement at him. "Don't look like that. I ain't gonna yell at you or nothin'." she said as if I were a joke. Her voice turned serious in the next instant. "I wanted to talk about what it is exactly. I know what you think it is, and I have an idea of what you're comparing me to. So I'm gonna tell you now that you are NOT a slave." Charon was silent, so Flood continued. "I don't know exactly what any other employers did to you or what they made you do, but I won't stick you in a corner and leave you to rot. You're my partner, not my servant. You hear me? Don't let people tell you otherwise."

Needless to say, Charon had never heard anything like that from any of his employers before. Because he was a ghoul, people tended to treat him poorly. Ahzrukhal had been the better of the employers because he hadn't berated his physical appearance nor told him to harm himself until he was a bleeding glob. Charon's previous employers had all forced him to break his own bones, called him names, and exploited him for the decaying flesh he was. The only reason Ahzrukhal didn't was because he related to his radiation problem.

Then, almost out of nowhere, a smoothskin waltzes into the Ninth Circle and buys his contract from the evil bastard. A woman no less, which would normally be worse since women feel the need to express their dominance over a situation. This one, however, treated him as an equal. Yes, she flaunted her dominance, but in metaphorical terms, the trophy was sitting on the mantle, never being mentioned; only admired. The ghoul had been with countless individuals that had used him as a kind of bargaining tool. Once, he'd been sold to correct a debt and then was ordered to shoot the man as soon as the contract traded hands. Ahzrukhal had been the one who ordered him to kill.

"Charon?" He looked away from the fire and toward Flood, who was staring him down with a serious look. It wasn't a realization that made him feel uncomfortable under her gaze, but the fact that she wasn't kidding about what she was saying was something that just made him fidget in his place.

"I understand." Charon murmured and looked at his gun, searching for more filthy parts. Flood didn't miss the sudden need he acquired to be away from her. She leaned forward and blew smoke at him, causing him to shift his eyes.

"No, I don't think you do," she said. "Don't ever lie to me. You can argue with me. You can call me names. You can attempt to kill me if you so choose. But don't ever lie." Flood leaned back in her original position and looked at the satellite hanging from the outside of the monument. "Lying makes the world that much more difficult. Having someone close to me lie just makes it damn near unbearable."

Charon thought for a moment, then stood up and pulled his pistol out of his bag. The barrel was aimed at her forehead, and she only sat there, staring off at the sky. "I'm allowed to do this? I'm allowed to threaten your life?" Flood didn't budge. "Don't ever lie to me, _miss_. You cannot stand the thought of being betrayed. Do not pretend you can." If she wanted to play games, then fine. Charon would play games. It was one thing to be degraded but another thing to be accused of lying. Especially under his contract.

"I'm not lying." Her eyes looked at him. It was strange how his arm didn't shake as he threatened his employer's life. "I never said I was okay with you pointing a gun at me. I never said I was okay with you threatening me. I never said you're impending betrayal never bothered the fuck out of me." Flood stood up and pulled her own gun, pointing it at him. Her movements were slow, so he knew what she was doing. Still, he didn't pull the trigger, but killing her wasn't his intention in the first place. "You, however, said you understood what I was saying to my face when you didn't even bother trying to hide the fact that you're having problems coming to terms with what I said. That is lying. I wasn't lying when I said you could do whatever the hell you wanted to do. If it bothers me, well then I'll just have to get over it, won't I?" She was becoming angry and Charon's concentration faltered. Her voice was becoming raised and a clenched feeling in his gut told Charon to keep his finger as loose on the trigger as possible. "I never said it didn't bother me, because it fucking does, Charon. It bothers me to know that as soon as I trade your contract, you'll turn and shoot me-"

"That's a lie!" Charon shouted. "I would never shoot you-"

"Bullshit! I bet you told Ahzrukhal that same thing the moment he held your contract in his filthy, booze soaked hand!"

"Why the fuck would I do that? His first order to me was to never lie, and when he asked me questions, I answered truthfully, as he wanted!"

"That was then!" she shouted and jabbed a finger into his chest. "And when did we jump way over to this, anyway? Just don't lie to me about anything! I couldn't care less about what that sick fuck Ahzrukhal did to you, only if it affects me today."

Charon had been clawing at the back of his neck while she yelled at him. Skin caught under his fingernails and clung to his fingertips. It went unnoticed; Charon was too furious. He hated being accused of disobeying his orders. "But I do understand! Whether or not I had come to terms with it or not wasn't the question you asked."

"Coming to terms is a part of understanding shit."

"Maybe in your cushy Vault it is! Out here is different and you have to abandon whatever Vaultie shit that's in your head and think like a Wastelander!"

A heavy silence fell over the two and Charon realized that it was a sensitive subject. Her face had darkened considerably and he could make out her jaw muscles grinding in the light of the fire. Immediately, he felt guilty and lowered his head, but couldn't bring himself to apologize. He'd been ashamed before, but not like this. This time, he felt a heavy guilt. He closed his eyes over the milky blue in his eyes and sighed. He knew he had to apologize, but what was her reaction exactly? She was obviously angry, but she was also a very confusing person in the twelve hours that he's known her. Would his actions warrant an apology if she had reacted as he thought she did? He had to say it eventually. It was better to say it earlier than later.

Flood turned to the left and looked out toward the wasteland as she glared daggers at whatever it was that caught her eye. Charon sighed and stepped forward, his hand outstretched in a peace gesture. "I'm sorry, miss. I'll never speak out of line again." She murmured something under her breath, as if she were whispering it to herself. Charon kept his mouth shut and his eyes on her. She looked over at him through the corner of her eye.

"Don't ever keep your thoughts to yourself." Charon kept silent. She was giving him orders and it was his obligation to listen with every ounce of energy in his body. "If you ever start an argument with me, I'll argue back. I will never punish you for speaking your mind unless you go against me physically, and we both know that's probably not gonna happen." Flood stopped for a moment to let the words sink in before ending their conversation. "Speak against me, but only if you want to. Know that I will fight back and I will win. Why? Because I have your fucking contract, that's why."

Still no words were uttered from her Ghoul bodyguard and she looked at the mattress for a second before reattaching her gaze on him. "For bringing up my past into this conversation, you don't get the mattress like I'd originally planned for you to have."

Charon furrowed his brow in confusion. "You just said that you wouldn't punish me for arguing with you."

"Thank you for bringing that up. It's nice to know your listening." Flood tossed her personal bag over onto the mattress and maneuvered around him. "And the mattress taking has nothing to do with the argument itself. I mean, I'm glad you just argued with me. It means you have a brain. However…" Flood kicked the bag so it was positioned as a pillow and turned toward Charon. She grabbed the leather straps that connected his armor to his body and pulled close to her face. If Charon had skin, his face would be red from the inappropriate proximity to her face.

"I will not tolerate any mention of Vault 101 around me ever again. That place can explode from the inside out and slaughter every living soul in there for all I care." She hesitated for only a moment, seeming unsure, but continued nonetheless. "Questions count as bringing it up. Conversations I can hear, but don't necessarily involve my personal input counts. Muttering to yourself counts. So long as I can hear it, you will regret it."

Flood let go of him and fell backwards onto the mattress. "Am I clear?" she asked him.

"Yes, Flood. Crystal clear," he responded. He understood his orders. He will listen, obey and live by her word so long as she holds that godforsaken piece of paper.

Flood said something that seemed to express her satisfaction with his answer and laid her head onto her bag. As she turned onto her side, she told him to sleep somewhere where he would feel comfortable.

His first thought was beside her on the mattress, but it disappeared so fast it seemed like the thought didn't exist at all.

So he didn't sleep.

* * *

><p>"The Great Flood returns!"<p>

Three Dog dramatically sung her praises as she ascended the staircase to his living quarters. She smirked at the dramatization and gripped his arm in greeting. Charon didn't pay much mind to him. Sure, before him was the voice that praised the Vaultie over the radio, but what else was he? He was just a voice to the lost souls of the Wasteland hoping for some kind of stability and a false sense of security. Once Charon reached the final step, Three Dog and Flood were already across the room. The DJ was serving her some food he'd just cooked up recently. She took a bite and tossed the bowl on the table, conversing with him about the stupid Super Mutants that almost crushed her. Not to mention they found a Behemoth sitting around in one of the larger sections of the area. Charon could remember the disbelief on her face when she said "Aw, what the fuck?" She was good to have crept about in the shadows, ignoring it completely and keeping her gun holstered. Well, until she found the rocket launchers. Her face lit up as if it were Christmas Morning during the Pre-War days.

She slipped out of her jacket while she was in mid-sentence. "The damn mutant didn't see us for shit! Not even when I was firing the rocket launchers I'd found." Flood turned toward Charon, who had been examining his Combat Knife for imperfections that he knew weren't there. "Charon, catch!" He turned over at the mention of his name and caught her leather jacket just before it fell down the stairwell. For someone with excellent aim with a rifle, she couldn't toss her coat for shit.

Three Dog looked the ghoul up and down for a moment. "Oh, sorry I didn't see you there, friend!" he said as he stood up to say hello.

Unknowning how to react to this new person that still had skin, he pulled his shoulders in and sized up the smoothskin standing to greet him. "The name's Three Dog. You Flood's new partner in crime?"

After a quick glance at Flood, who was getting another bowl and completely oblivious to the scene behind her, he looked Three Dog straight in the eyes and said "Talk to Flood."

Whatever she was doing with her back turned ceased as she recognized the words and who they were spoken to. Of course he just had to say it to the guy who says everything over the radio. Three Dog lifted a confused eyebrow as he opened his mouth to speak again, but Flood turned and tossed a spoon across the room before anyone could mention another word. She knew exactly how it would end up if Charon kept up with his reclusive attitude.

"QUICK QUESTION!" she shouted. She picked up the bowl she was preparing for Charon and walked over to the pair by the stairwell. "Can I know what I wanna know in the _other_ room please? Charon often feels awkward when eating with a crowd around him, right Charon?"

"Yes miss."

And again, those familiar words that symbolized ownership; an ownership Three Dog was most likely going to blow out of proportion. Charon himself, however, had no clue what his actions entailed. He was doing as he was told, and Flood was quickly being annoyed for no known reason to him.

"…yeah, okay. Let's talk in the rec room." Three Dog quickly led Flood into the room and shut the door behind them while Charon was left alone with a bowl of steaming…something. It looked like noodles with a strange seasoning that might poison him.

Meanwhile, beyond the door, Three Dog rubbed at his chin as he thought of what to say. "So, who's the ghoul?"

"His name is Charon. He's my partner." Flood decided to play coy until he got smart enough to ask the right questions. She wanted to downplay it as much as possible before telling him not to broadcast this small piece of paper across the Wastes.

Three Dog caught it. "Don't play coy with me, _Helen_, who's the-" As quickly as he'd spoken, he was silenced by her .44 magnum to the center of his forehead.

"Don't _EVER_ mention that name again," she whispered, her voice growing raspy with the more anger she pushed into the words. "I am not that little weakling, I am Flood. Little Helen is dead. She died when she fell off that balcony in Megaton, got it?" She blinked, then sheathed her weapon in the holster on her right thigh. "And as for Charon, I'll tell you everything you want to know if you tell me where my father is first. On the condition you don't broadcast Charon all over the damn Wastes."

Charon pondered on the name "Helen" as he sat at the table finishing off Flood's remaining food. It's not like she was going to eat it anyway. She often didn't finish her food and left it for Charon as left overs. Though he would have his own serving, she would always give him more because he was "a growing ghoul" and needed to "keep up" his strength. Whatever that meant.

Flood sat back in a chair against the wall, closest to the door, and lit up a cigarette. "Rivet City...haven't been there yet..."

Three Dog shrugged as he leaned against a table, his recording quietly shouting in the room. "It ain't far, you gotta follow some tunnels and then you'll be there in no time," he said. "James said he was lookin' for Dr. Li. They were working on Project Purity."

Charon turned his head toward the door as he placed the dishes in the sink. Being polite apparently had its quirks, he thought, as he stood by the counter.

"Project Purity?" Flood sighed a ploom of smoke. "You have to keep in mind that I'm from under a rock."

The DJ laughed. "Oh, I am. It's not too well-known what was going on in the Jefferson Memorial, but you're lookin' at the Wasteland's Gossipstone!"

"...what?"

"Never mind. Imagine a water purifier large enough to clean the entire Potomac."

Flood laughed this time. Charon observed it was more of a cackle instead of a laugh. He assumed it was because of her smoking habits, but he abandoned that quickly, knowing he wasn't a doctor and could most definitely be wrong. "As much as I don't care why, I'll tell you this: It's impossible. Science was a hobby of mine back under my rock and trust me, the rock was pretty damn good at its education."

"Well, James made it happen. He came to a standstill just before you were born-"

"You don't listen." Three Dog stopped and crossed his arms, ready to tell her to stop and pay attention before she stood up and flicked the cigarette butt off to the corner of the room. "You didn't hear the part where I don't care." She turned away toward the door, murmuring to herself again. Charon caught her whispers, and interpreted them as "Charon listens better than you."

The Disc Jockey was appalled. "You should care! Your Dad's trying to start it up again."

"_I DON'T CARE!_" she shouted. Her green eyes shot daggers at the man and stood higher, attempting to be more intimidating, to help him take her more seriously. "You told me where he is, where I can look. Ask your questions so I can find him before he runs off again."

Three Dog wanted to tell her to stop and listen, but her mind was set. It was just as set as when she walked in with her magnum at her hip. She wanted to find her father, and all of her attention, time and effort would go into that very cause. Why he left didn't bother her. She'd find out when she found him. He admired her for that very trait. She didn't want to bother with the smaller details. The larger cause was worth thinking about. People who thought about the smaller things found themselves losing their way.

...damn, that should be a broadcast...

He settled to keeping it to himself and waved her off. "No, just go find James. Tell him I said hi when ya find him, alright?"

"No."

He became confused, as did Charon. Did she not want to leave? "Huh?"

"No. Ask your questions."

"..." Three Dog thought for a moment. "...Where'd you find him?"

"Underworld. The Bartender at the Ninth Circle, Ahzrukhal, had him under contract and forced him to serve as a bouncer." Flood said it so nonchalantly that Charon almost thought it wasn't worth the thought. Like it was so insignificant that it almost didn't exist.

Three Dog became skeptical. "Under contract?"

"Yeah, he was brainwashed and shit to obey whoever holds an item."

"And what item would this be?"

"Why the fuck do you think I'd tell you?"

Flood picked up her duster and made toward the door. Charon retreated to his place by the stairwell. "You asked your questions, now I gotta catch my Dad."

"Aww, come on girl!" Three Dog said with a grin on his face. "One more question! Just one."

"I know what it is. And the answer is no."

Flood opened the door and walked out, nodding to Charon and tossing him the duster. "Trade ya! Leather please." Charon handed her the leather jacket and took hold of the long coat while she slipped into the snake labeled jacket. Three Dog came out and watched her prepare for her departure. She turned back to him and smirked. "Don't tell anyone where I'm going. I have a feeling I'm being hunted down by some mercs." Charon looked down at her, but didn't dare ask why until they were out of ear shot of the Brotherhood of Steel and Three Dog himself.

"See ya later, Flood! Good luck finding Dad! I'll be rootin' for ya!"

* * *

><p>Charon had her duster over his shoulder and followed behind her with their gear in tow. They made their way towards the main roads of D.C., enroute to Rivet City, the city built on a grounded ship. He knew little about it, only that there weren't any Ghouls on it at all. It made him uncomfortable just thinking about it, and he wasn't sure how Flood would react if people began confronting his...skin condition. She would either not care or tell Charon to man up.<p>

"So," Flood began after a long silence. "How much did you hear?"

He wouldn't lie, so he told the truth. "Most of it."

"Any questions?"

"No, Flood. None that you'd like to hear." The young woman smiled. That was an answer she wanted to hear. "Although, I'd like to know what his last question was going to be."

"Which one?...oh, that one. Yeah, definitely a no."

Charon became confused. "What was the question?"

Flood turned her head and peered at him over her shoulder. "Whether or not you were a slave."


	3. Chapter 3: Blinded by the Light

**Review Responses:**

**imdoingthisformyfriend: Thank you! I do plan to keep this up until the end. Plenty of plot twists and happenings that aren't actually in the game.**

**AikaOokami: If it is moar you want, it's moar you shall get :D Its nice to see that my story is differing from other stories written on Charon and the Lone Wanderer. Although I hope this chapter will be far more different than I believe I've seen.**

**Thatonechick3: I'm glad writing the argument worked out. I was worried that it would be too far-fetched for Charon's character since he's trained to be passive with his employer, but I wanted it to be more realistic. Like he has feelings too and not just an NPC pack mule with a gun. Flood, however, was a little more difficult. I wanted it to seem like she was unsure the entire conversation and make it obvious without having to write out that she wasn't sure what she was arguing about. Seems like a human thing, right? **

**Or so my thought process goes. If anyone else wants to review, please do so. It helps me with wanting to write more and place finishing touches on the whole thing. If people like this fic enough, I'll actually start thinking about a New Vegas fic! Maybe, though. **

**This chapter is pretty long. This is also where it starts getting hard for Flood herself. Reviews are appreciated! ~UP789**

Flood stopped at one point and spun around to face her newest friend. Charon stopped as she did and waited for an order. She stood there, her hazel eyes watching him as he kept his gaze focused on his new employer. Neither of them seemed to care about the place they'd stopped in: the middle of a street open wide to attack. Glittering buildings shined as debris fell down and cluttered on the ground quietly as the two stared each other down.

The girl smiled. "I forgot to ask if you had any problems with crowded areas," she confessed. The ghoul lifted an eyebrow as she kept speaking. "Do you mind crowded places like Rivet City or anything?"

"No, miss." Charon told her. Flood examined him for a moment, trying to catch a lie, and ended up shrugging it off. She turned and started walking again and, for a while, she listened to Charon's footsteps behind her, stepping where she had once stepped.

"If you have a problem with being there, you'll tell me, right?" she asked.

Charon nodded. "Yes, miss, if you wish me to do so."

Flood nodded and adjusted her hat. The thing was falling apart, she'd have to get it patched up once they got there. "Call me Flood when there's no one around, okay?" The Vaultie was starting to feel like she was too powerful with him calling her 'miss' all the time. Not only did it make her a little uncomfortable, but it was very distracting when she was trying to concentrate on which direction to go in. D.C. was a maze! Her map wasn't entirely updated yet since it marks pre-war routes and she had to focus on the choices of direction she had.

"Yes, miss."

Before she could reprimand him for calling her miss again, she remembered he wasn't stupid. He was a ghoul, but that didn't mean he was an idiot dog that needed to be trained. No, he's a human being and he's already been trained. Flood turned her head and saw him looking back at her, motioning toward an alleyway to their left. She looked over to the alleyway and suddenly found herself on the ground with a missile sailing over her. It exploded into a building to their right.

Two Super Mutants stomped out of the alleyway and began firing more missiles and 5mm with miniguns. Flood quickly scrambled to her feet and drew her .44. Charon had already taken cover behind a blown out car. Curses flew out of Flood's mouth as she ducked behind it and hoped to God the debris didn't break under the constant attack the minigun was giving it. Charon had the misfortune of handling the Super Mutant with the Missile Launcher.

Charon actually hadn't been sure if the presence in the alley was human or not, but even so, the ghoul acted quickly, and with excellent reaction time, he dove out from behind the car and into an alley way before a missile hit the car. It had been blown out before, so there was no explosion, much to Flood's dismay. She liked explosions. Charon managed to get close enough to the one with the minigun to shoot it and kill it instantly. Its head was blasted clean off by Charon's shotgun. Blood spattered on the sandy ground and splashed onto his boots. The mercenary made a sound of disgust before spitting on the dead body. Another missile was fired and Charon sidestepped behind more cover.

Flood couldn't do much with a puny .44. She fired a few shots at the Mutant and decided that she wanted a new gun. Good thing Rivet City was a City after all and not a puny settlement with no money. They had to sell weapons somewhere. The blast of the missile exploding nearby caused Flood's hat to fly off and slide under a car behind her. She turned to look. "Damn hat…" she cursed before coming out from behind her cover to fire at the Super Mutant as it reloaded. The bullet flew right between his eyes and he stumbled about, stunned. Flood took the chance to turn around and get her hat out from under the car.

However, as the Super Mutant felt the bullet fly into his head and fail to create an exit wound, it pulled the trigger one more time and fired a missile before it fell backward dead. The thing flew right over Flood's head as she went to retrieve her hat. For two seconds, she watched it fly right over her and smash into the car her hat was under. The blast set the engine on fire and, sadly, the nuclear generator inside hadn't burnt out yet.

The explosion happened instantly. Flood hadn't closed her eyes and her hat wasn't there to shield her eyes from the nuclear light that she was maybe two meters away from. The next thing she knew, she was on her back, her eyes closed and her hands clawing at her eyelids. And she was screaming. The pain was unbearable. It was as if someone had slid burning hot needles into both her eyes and they went right through her brain and straight into her occipital lobe, way in the back. Not to mention the burning pain from the heat of the explosion and lingering radiation from the blown nuclear engine.

Charon jumped over fallen debris in his way of getting to his employer and threw his gun to the side to give her his full attention. "Flood!" he yelled, struggling to get her attention. She couldn't hear him though; the explosion had caused her ears to ring too loud for her to hear anything. "Flood, calm down!" Charon had no idea what was happening. Usually she liked explosions, was she too close? Did part of the explosion hit her?

He tried grabbing her wrists to keep her from clawing her face off, but she lashed out and swung her arms around. "GET OFF!" Flood screeched before grabbing fistfuls of her own hair and tugging. "GOD DAMMIT, IT HURTS! IT FUCKING HURTS!"

"What hurts?" Charon screamed back. Flood sighed and moaned in pain, trying not to scream anymore.

"My-…my eyes…I can't…Fuck, it HURTS, Charon, make it fucking STOP!"

Charon tried moving her arms to the side, but she resisted. "I can't help if you won't let me see what happened," he pointed out. Charon lifted her up and leaned her against his leg so he could look better. She whimpered in pain, but it was a whimper of angry pain. Her arms lowered and he tilted her head up so he could get a better look. "Open your eyes."

Flood bit her lip and fluttered her eyelids, but didn't open them. "Th-they hurt too much…"

Charon improvised by placing his fingers on her eyes and gently tugging so he could open them by force. She fought, but Charon reasoned that to be a reaction to the pain. Her hazel eyes finally looked at light, but both persons froze when she opened them completely.

"Charon…Charon I CAN'T FUCKING SEE!" she screamed. Flood's pupils had shrunk considerably, if they could even be said to exist at all. They had to be as small as pinpoints if they were there at all. Charon only saw the hazel color of her eyes and something that resembled a milky film over her eyes. "I CAN'T FUCKING SEE! FUCK, CHARON I CAN'T SEE!"

Charon acted fast. He pulled up the pack containing the medical supplies and pulled out two syringes of Med-X. He stabbed them into her arm and threw the used syringes away. She screamed from the pain. "What did you do? What was that? Fuck, I can't SEE!" Charon ignored her and pulled out two Stimpacks and stabbed her just above the eyebrows. She screamed and pushed the needles away after they had drained. "TELL ME WHAT YOU'RE DOING!"

"I administered Med-X in your arm and Stimpacks in your head in that order," he relayed. "I expect your eyes are injured, so the stimpacks should heal them, and the Med-X is to help combat any pain you are feeling." He tucked one arm under her legs, at the knees, and one around her shoulders, and lifted her up. "Now I'm taking you to Rivet City for medical attention." Charon started walking, but then remembered something. He had no idea how to get there without getting hurt anymore. Her hisses and screams kept him from thinking straight as he tried to remember where the nearest subway was. He thought about using her Pip-Boy on his own, but still he hadn't the slightest clue how to use it, and from what he observed, it activated at her own touch, not anyone else's. It had never been a problem before now. Now he realized how important his employer's sight was.

Well, Charon began walking in the direction they had been heading before, hoping to find his way to a nearby subway on accident.

It had taken two hours to get from off-center D.C. to Rivet City. Charon had sighed in absolute relief and began climbing the slopes to the bridge. Not once had her pain diminished, only when the Med-X had started working for a half an hour before the pain started throbbing again. He made it a point to wrap her head and cover her eyes during their time in the subway, when the pain was less. Light was a contributing factor to the pain, they both soon found out. A ripped, dirty cloth was tied over her eyes and secured by a double knot. Her hat was long forgotten, but the important things like her weapon and cigarettes were in the pack Charon managed to be able to carry for two hours over his shoulder.

Charon walked up to where the bridge should've been extended. The fact that it wasn't pissed him off, but that didn't matter. Flood was hurt and it was his responsibility to find a way across. He spied a security guard doing some maintenance on his rifle across the way and an intercom next to him. The other half of the intercom was beside Charon, to the left. He pushed the button with his elbow and the security guard looked up from what he was doing and spotted them. He pushed the button on his intercom and told him to hold on and wait for him to extend the bridge.

It didn't take too long, but it took too long for Charon. Flood was crying and grabbing at her bodyguard's armor, squeezing her fists over the Kevlar fabric to keep herself from screaming out. "What's going on?" she asked. "What was that sound?" She meant the screeching of underused hinges on a bridge mechanism.

"It was the bridge moving," he told her calmly. "The security guard extended it for us."

Flood kept silent after that, keeping one hand on her eye cover and another on the leather strap that kept Charon's shoulder plates in place. Charon made his way across the bridge and the guard met him halfway. "What happened to her?" he asked. Charon noted his electric blue eyes and how he's never seen that kind of color before.

"Who's that?" The man had startled Flood and she tightened her grip on Charon's uniform. "Shit, where'd he come from?"

The guard holstered his Plasma Rifle and held out his hand to calm her. Not that it would do any good, but Charon didn't' say anything. "It's alright, miss. My name is Harkness, Security Chief of Rivet City." Harkness said. "What happened to you?"

Flood scoffed. "Super Mutant shot a missile and exploded a car in my face. I'm fucking BLIND!" she yelled. "I need medical attention and I need to find someone named Dr. Li."

"Dr. Li is the head of the science department. She's not a good doctor but-"

"Who said I wanted Li to treat me?" she screamed. "I'm in PAIN! I can't fucking SEE! Get me to a doctor, then I'll figure out what to do with Li."

Charon tried to push past, but Harkness stepped in his way. "Preston won't treat you for free. I just thought I'd let you know that."

Now Charon spoke. "If you want to let us know something, it should be where 'Preston' is."

Harkness led the way, pushing past curious onlookers in the cramped halls. Charon felt claustrophobic and insecure in the small hallways, but what else could he do? He had to get his employer to the doctor and maybe then, inside the doctor's office, he'd feel a little more secure in a more visible and protected room.

For three days, things were quiet. Too quiet. Too quiet for Flood anyway.

She wasn't used to staying in one place for long anymore. Megaton was a place she went to, but she often left and went to scavenge the abandoned areas around to raise the money to pay Doc Hoff back, and that was only for a few weeks.

The most she's stayed in that place was maybe two days to heal and get drunk before leaving again to pay back the doc for more of his services. Then she went around town doing odd jobs like fixing pipes and fixing people's guns as long as they had the caps and the material to help her do it.

Now she couldn't even walk around without Charon by her side. She was antsy and seriously wanted to kill something. She'd heard conversations down in the Muddy Rudder about Mirelurk troubles over in the broken bow of the ship. She'd listen to how people had faulty guns from Flak n' Shrapnel's store, apparently the weapon store in Rivet City. Problems she could fix but couldn't. There were people everywhere and she heard them all. Charon would lead her everywhere and she heard about how people pitied her and wished her well. It damn near sickened her. It was one thing in Megaton when she fell down and left there as punishment for starting a fight in the bar, but it was different than Rivet City. At least she could see. At least she could move her arms to grab a gun. At least she could aim. At least she was fixable. Being blind might not be fixable, no matter how "good" the chances were. Preston said he can make it happen. Flood said "I'll kill you if you don't."

Flood's main hangout was the Muddy Rudder. There, she drowned her sorrows and pain in multiple shots of whiskey and scotch. After a while, she'd throw up, but to stop the pain, she kept drinking. On multiple occasions, Charon had to pick her up and carry her back to Preston's office. Paying was never a concern for Flood. She managed to scavenge and hang around in Megaton enough after paying off all her debts to become rich enough to be able to pay for more things. She could definitely pay for the medical stuff, and she had a separate pouch of caps purely for drinking purposes. She was pretty okay there too.

But for three days, there was _no_ income. Her caps were disappearing like flies on a bug zapper. Preston charged for the bed, but was generous enough to give her a discount since she really couldn't be anywhere else. In other words, he pitied her. Charon has suggested the inn on the top floor, but she'd still have to pay money for a room plus Preston for medical attention. It'd only be easier if she just stayed where she was. He's also suggested cutting back on the booze and just taking more Med-X, but that was purely out of the question. Flood can easily admit she's an alcoholic, but no one said it was a fact she wanted to change.

Flood also had a change of bandages every day. She had a cloth tied against her eyes in case of discharge so Preston can analyze if and check if it's the eyes healing. So far, it's only tears and yes, that means its healing. She couldn't wait to leave the boat, not at all.

But then, while she was down in the Muddy Rudder, drinking her pain away, she remembered something in her drunken stupor. She forgot her caps in the room and if she wanted to continue drinking in the future and not get locked up, she had to get them. Flood stood up and felt her way around the bar to get to the stairs. The blind girl could remember which general direction she came from, so it wouldn't be too hard.

"Miss," Charon said, noticing her attempting to climb the stairs. He stood to help her, but she raised her hand.

"No, stay here so I can get the caps," Flood said and continued climbing the stairs _extremely _slowly.

Charon stood anyway, standing close to her and gently touching her shoulder so she noticed him before he spoke suddenly. "You stay. I know where the caps are."

"I need to move, Charon."

"Not when you're half-drunk you don't."

He had a point, she thought to herself, and told him to help her back to the chair so she could sit down and wait for the opportunity to keep drinking. Once she was sitting back down at the bar, Charon made his way up the staircase and out the door. She heard the door close and Flood whipped out her Zippo and lit a cigarette. Only three left, she noticed as she dug her fingers into the carton.

She heard heels click their wait down the stairs the other way and sit beside her. "Hey Bonny, how about another round, eh?" the woman asked, her voice contaminated by booze.

The bartender scoffed. "No, you've had plenty. Besides, you can't afford anymore."

"Yeah I can! Look!" The sound of caps hitting the metal bar was loud and annoying. Flood ran a hand through her hair, taking the sound the same way she would if it were nails on a chalkboard. A shiver went down her spine as the woman picked up two of the many caps that were spilled onto the counter and slid them against each other as if it were two coins. The worst part about that was the drunken woman had them the wrong way and slid the bottoms of the caps together, creating a constant clicking sound that made Flood want to throw up.

"Dammit, Trinnie you've gotta buy food with something," Bonny the Bartender protested. "What's gonna feed your son?"

"The brat can feed himself."

For a brief moment, Flood was reminded of Butch's mother. She would drink her problems away using the food rations and Butch would go hungry for a while unless his friends offered him food. She would give him food too, but only out of pity because he'd walk out of the bathroom with red puffy eyes with a bruise on his neck when he was little.

Thoughts of the Vault were abandoned quickly as she ran a hand through her hair once more. She needed another drink, but Bonny wouldn't give her the damn whiskey until Charon paid for everything else she'd drank.

"Hey, hey you." The harsh smell of beer and gum disease made Flood gag and move in the opposite direction of the drunken woman beside her. "You wanna buy me a beer? I'll make it worth your while." Flood stood and moved her hands so she could find a new seat away from the bar. The bartender was keeping an eye on the stumbling blind girl to make sure she didn't hit anyone. Flak had the decency to stand and help her to a new seat. Flood thanked her and bounced her knee out of anxiety. It was crowded, Charon wasn't there, and she couldn't see.

The seat across from her moved and the familiar smell of booze sat in front of her. Flood moved her wrist to her nose and pulled the leather sleeve up further to help cover the smell. It didn't work. "Come on, I know you got the caps. I see you in here all the time!"

"Funny, I never see you," Flood retorted. Her voice was cracked and as she cleared her throat, the woman laughed dramatically.

"OH you're so funny!" she cried. The other customers looked over, disgusted at Trinnie. Flood turned her head away from her and wondered what was taking Charon so long. He only left a minute ago, but even so, it was too long for her. Trinnie sat forward and breathed out again. "So, gimme some caps! Come on, buy me a drink!"

Flood wanted to escape, run, or even start shooting the bitch. Without her gun, knife, or eyesight, she was useless. She tried to focus on the buzz from the previously consumed alcohol, but it barely dulled the pain of the migraine this woman was beginning to give her. "Go away, lady." Flood tried to tell her, but the woman only sat forward more.

"Aw come on, I can tell you're lonely, what with traveling with a zombie and all-"

Flood reached out and attempted to grab the woman's collar, but grabbed a fistful of hair instead. Trinnie screeched and Flood yanked. "CHARON IS NOT A ZOMBIE, YOU MIRELURK DICK EATING WHORE!" she shouted before tossing her back into the seat. She nearly lost her balance doing so, and fell back into the chair. She tried to stand up again, but her head was pulled toward the side and it collided with the metal floor. Flood recognized the cries and disapproval from the rest of the bar before she felt the cushiony blindfold pulled away and force being pounded into her skull.

The woman got in a good three hits to the face, two failed swipes, and a kick to the stomach before Charon threw her off and began to destroy her. The bouncer jumped down and separated them, grabbing the bitch by the arms and dragged her up the other pair of stairs so she could get arrested while a security guard had to hold Charon back from chasing them down. Flood, however, was screaming in pain and clawing at her face again. Charon picked her up bridal style and bolted for Preston's office.

God dammit, was Flood gonna shoot her in the fucking face. Trinnie crushed the three cigarettes she had left.

The first punch was in the center of the face, between the eyes. There was no real damage there besides a bad bruise. The second punch was to the left eye, which was the one injury Preston was real worried about. The third punch was to the nose, which broke the bone and severed some cartilage. Blood poured from her nose and Flood's eye was beginning to bleed when there were supposed to be tears. Charon was worried and Flood was in so much pain, she had to be put into a drug induced sleep for a while so she could be in less pain while Preston reset the bone and fixed the blood vessels that were severed.

Preston confessed his worry about her eye by doing tests and injecting different drugs near her eye. She'd already been getting medication like that, but the only difference was she only needed one shot for both her eyes. During the war, they knew people would most likely watch a nuclear explosion without eye protection. So they created a way to have people regain their sight much quicker than they normally would. Usually, it would take months to regain sight, but with the drug and the right exercises, it would take no more than a week.

But it's been a week and a half since she watched the explosion, and still her left eye couldn't see. Her right eye was coming along perfectly, though a bit delayed, but that was expected with her head connecting with the ground like it did. Since she could at least see with one eye, she's been demanding to go out and kill things, but Charon kept her where she was because it was the doctor's medical opinion not to let her do anything except walk. Her peripheral vision was a bit askew because of her lack of ability to use the other eye, so her right eye had to get used to discerning shadows and depth to measure things out. Going straight into combat wasn't the smartest idea, considering she couldn't yet determine approximate distance with one eye. Flood was furious, but there was nothing she could do. The pain killers were strong and she couldn't move around very much with them in her system.

Charon hadn't told Flood, but Preston had said that he was worried Flood's left eye would stay blind forever. The trauma might've done some other damage he couldn't fix or maybe was colliding with the drug he was giving her. Keeping her in the doctor's office was the best thing he could do at the moment, and that pissed him off. That pissed him off beyond belief.

But then he had an idea.

Flood was alone. Preston was out at the market getting more drugs and Charon said he had to get something as well. So she took advantage of her solitude and started listening to her father's recording; his goodbye message. She'd heard it before, but that didn't mean it lost its importance. He said he'd loved her and that he left for a reason. He wanted her to stay in that Vault, but he didn't know that the Overseer went insane and tried to kill her and her friends. So many people died, and Flood could've been one of them. How could her father not know the consequences of leaving? It wasn't too hard to figure out. Alphonse was unstable enough as it was, how could he do this to her? When Jonas's voice would interject itself in her father's goodbye rant, she wanted to cry. He'd been one of those dead people. The Overseer ordered for him to die and the brainwashed bastards had done just that. He was so disrespected when Flood found him, too. His glasses were broken, he was sprawled out on the floor, his eyes were open, and his blood was all over the place.

"_I can't tell you why I left or where I'm going. I don't want you to follow me." _James had said. _"God knows life in the Vault isn't perfect. But at least you'll be safe." _Flood had always avoided listening to it because of the teary eyed effect it had on her. She would always imagine a sad reunion with her daddy, and going back to a normal life, but not anymore. Now she actually had to wonder what would happen. Would he shun her because of her new lifestyle? Because she was different now, would he not accept her as his daughter? He kept secrets from her, did he not truly love her?

As she was listening to the recording for the seventh time, Charon reentered with someone she didn't know. Flood hadn't heard them come in, she'd been too engrossed in her father's recording to notice. The stranger heard her father's voice and stood there, listening to the man's voice she remembered so clearly. _"I don't mean to interrupt you Doc but we really should get going." _Jonas's voice had rung out against the metal walls. James spoke once more. _"Okay….Good bye…I love you."_ The recording came to a halt and Flood looked at the Pip-Boy to begin it once more.

"He sounds very convincing."

Flood pulled out a pistol from beside her and aimed it at the intruder. Charon stepped forward and held his arm in front of the person she aimed to kill. "Who the fuck are you!" she shouted. She looked at Charon. "Get away from her, who is this chick?"

"This is Dr. Madison Li," Charon said, moving to the side and letting go of her arm as he was ordered to do. "You had expressed a need to see her and because of your inability to find her yourself, I found her for you."

The doctor chick scoffed. "Rudely, if I do say so myself."

Flood pulled back the hammer of the magnum. "Shut it, you. Thank you, Charon, I appreciate it."

"You're welcome, miss."

The scientist crossed her arms and stuck her nose up in the air, as if she were above everyone else in the room. Though she didn't show it, she was concerned for the girl's eye. The bandage over her eye was taped to its place and wrapped over by gauze. Her other eye seemed to have healed fine. Apparently, according to the rumors, she had a missile exploded in her face and the brightness caused her to go blind. But a regular explosion right there in front of her was one of those things that you couldn't stand beside without getting maimed in the process.

"May I ask what happened to you?" Li the snotty one asked the half-blind one holding the gun.

She raised her visible eyebrow. "What, no rumors going around?" she asked. "Super Mutant destroyed a car and it blew up while I was looking at it."

"Why were you looking at the car? Did it say hi?"

"My hat flew under it. I was going to get it but..."

The rest went unsaid. Dr. Li cleared her throat. "So I'm assuming you're here about your father."

Flood lowered the gun and placed it back in its holster, to her left. "Yeah. Three Dog said he was on his way here to see you," Flood said, sitting up and leaning against the wall the medical stretcher was placed against. "I'm assuming he came and left?"

"Yep. Came in talking about Project Purity and how he wanted to start it back up. The problem is that it won't work anymore. That and the Jefferson Memorial is overrun with Super Mutants."

Flood blinked. Li raised an eyebrow. "What, James didn't tell you?"

Flood laughed aloud. "HA! I don't trust anything he's ever said to me all my life anymore. He told me I was born in the Vault, but you know otherwise, don't you doc?" Flood dug into her pack for a cigarette and her lighter. "I found out from the bar owner in Megaton. Called me brainwashed and shit..." She trailed off, playing with the Zippo lighter she had found on a dead Raider. "...but no, he didn't say anything about it to me. Kept a lotta secrets from me, apparently."

Charon wasn't thrilled with the fact that this conversation was upsetting her, but the fact remained unable to be changed. Flood ordered him to be silent, and silent he shall remain. Li didn't seem to approve of the fact her father had lied to her, but again, it was a fact set in stone. Nothing could change it now, no matter the apologies, the amends, or the revelations of the truths he kept from her. He lied, and that's what bothered all three people in the room (though some would argue Charon wouldn't actually be a person, by which Flood would have all who argued with her at gunpoint).

Li spoke next. "Project Purity was meant to purify large quantities of water, not just water in Vaults or here in Rivet City. The whole Potomac River in D.C." Flood looked up from her Zippo and Charon glanced over at the doctor. Her statement coaxed a dark chuckle from Flood. She was mocking Dr. Li.

"Yeah, yeah who cares? Dad didn't tell me about it. I bet it failed miserably, right?"

"It was going fine until we stopped making progress. At the time we were protected by the Brotherhood of Steel, but when you were born and your dad bailed on us, the place was overrun with Super mutants. We abandoned the project, not because it wasn't working, but we just stopped progressing."

Charon spoke next. "Permission to speak, miss?"

Flood sighed and flicked the drained cigarette towards the pair across the room. "I told you that you didn't need permission. You're not a slave, Charon, you're my partner." Li looked back at the ghoul near her and watched him carefully. They didn't act like partners; he acted like her guardian or something. The story between them seemed a bit complex, and she didn't want to get in the middle. She preferred things more simple than otherwise.

"Fine." Charon looked at Li. "This has nothing to do with where her father may have gone to from here."

The half-blind girl smiled and sighed in content. "Now really, Charon, this is why I keep you around. You keep focused on the task in hand while keeping my interests in mind." Flood looked at Li. "Isn't he a good partner? Good thing I pay him, huh?"

Li was surprised. She seemed nothing like her parents. Maybe more like Catherine than James, but the woman that birthed this…person…was never as hardened and ruthless. She wanted to know more than just the painting. She wanted to know how the painting was created. Flood just wanted the end goal and then what? What did she want to do? The project her father wanted to recreate was crucial, and Li couldn't understand why she would ignore such an important part. She wanted to question it, but didn't. The girl still had her firearm and the zombie behind her didn't seem to want to put up with this any longer.

She sighed. "You're so different from your parents," she said quietly. "James was headstrong, but at least he gave a damn about the why."

Flood's smile faded as the doctor began to walk towards dangerous ground. "You might want to stop talking before you get yourself in some serious trouble," she said, her voice low and serious. "Doc Preston has been pretty nice to me, and I'd hate to get your blood all over his office."

"Look, I just want to know-"

"That's too fucking bad." Charon wasn't big on cursing, but this woman had been getting on his nerves since moment one. She was snooty, she held her head higher than others, and bossed others around as if she owned the damn ship. Getting her to follow Charon was a bitch to do, but he managed it by mentioning the name James, Flood and Daughter in the same sentence.

Charon was on a short fuse, Flood was annoyed and drugged, and Li was dying to leave and forget this even happened. Might as well make it go by as quick as possible. "Flood will not hesitate to harm you if you don't drop the subject and tell us where her father has gone."

Li snorted. "What are you to her anyway? Her spokesperson? I think _Helen_ here can manage to speak on her own-"

A gunshot rang out against the metallic walls and made Li flinch and Charon reach for the shotgun attached to his back. He didn't get as far as the trigger when Flood pulled the hammer back and aimed at Li once more. "Helen is DEAD!" she screamed. Charon relaxed his arm and looked at Li, who was still and frightened by the hostility that came of one simple word. "Little Helen is dead. She died in Megaton. Fell off a balcony and _died_. She ceases to exist! Gone! Finished! Departed! Kicked the bucket! DEAD!" It was almost as if she'd lost her sanity. Her eye was wide and teeming with rage, malice and intent to kill.

"My name is Flood. I am a wanderer searching for my father, James. If all you can do is compare me to that little cry baby that couldn't even fend for herself in that damn Vault, then get the _fuck_ out of here and I'll figure it out myself."

Li merely stood there. This person couldn't have been related to James _or_ Catherine! She was as lethal as a nuclear bomb with third world foreigners tapping at the strange metal, seeing if anything happened if they prodded the wrong button. The doctor looked at the ghoul beside her, who seemed unfazed by this strange behavior. How long has he traveled with her? Did she break his conscious and force him into slavery? So far that was the impression Dr. Madison Li was getting.

Instead of asking questions to sate her scientific curiosity, she merely said the words "Jefferson Memorial."

Flood sighed and tossed the gun aside. "Thank you, Dr. Li." The woman looked exhausted from that display of anger. All of a sudden she didn't look nineteen; she looked in her late twenties. Her head lolled back against the metal wall behind her and her eye moved away from the pair in the room and gazed at an occupied place on the wall. Li didn't take any more time observing and exited the room, shaken and annoyed. That couldn't have been his daughter, but she looks so much like him! What could've possibly happened to her that made her like…this? Helen died in Megaton. If she were to investigate, she'd start there.

Charon, however, had already planned on asking around as soon as they entered the place. The town name had been thrown around carelessly around him, and Flood seemed reluctant to go there. The tired girl blinked slowly as if warding away sleep, and Charon felt bad for his employer. He felt bad and didn't even know why.

"Would you like to depart tomorrow morning?" he asked. She sighed and ran a hand through her hair. The bandages he remembered her having were gone, replaced with scarring across her palm. A knife wound.

Flood didn't even move her eye toward her faithful partner when she spoke. "Helen is dead, Charon."

"Hm?"

"Helen Flood? She's dead. Colin Moirarty elbowed her in the temple during a fight and knocked her off the balcony." Charon took a couple steps closer as she spoke. She didn't seem to mind him closing distance. "She fell onto a rooftop, but when she tried to stand back up she lost her balance and fell off backwards. She impaled her hip against the bomb beneath her and broke her arm when she finally hit the ground. The sheriff, Simms, found out that she started the fight in the first place, but didn't bother asking why. She couldn't tell them why she did. She couldn't tell them she was just defending Gob…she couldn't speak because she was in so much pain…"

She blinked and found another space on the wall to focus on. Charon had pulled up a chair and was sitting beside her. "Twelve hours. Twelve fucking hours she laid there and no one did anything because she was guilty. It was nothing like the Vault, where they locked her in a cell until her Daddy came by and lectured her on fighting and drinking. Twelve hours until Gob came down and took her to Doc Hoff's office." Charon saw her face go from reminiscent to angry at the thought. "She died before Gob got to her. She no longer exists. I walked out of Hoff's office with broken bones and no money. I walked out and made myself stand out."

"So what does that make you?"

Flood looked over at Charon, whose stoic face didn't seem fazed by the sudden attention. "What did you say?" she asked.

He didn't mind clarifying. "If Helen died before she got into the doctor's office, what does that make you?" Charon took a risky chance with his words, and felt completely uncomfortable saying it. "You're still Helen, just a different Helen."

Flood fell into a contemplative state after hearing his words. There was no shouting, no gun waving, and no reactions. Charon liked this result to calling her Helen. Silence befell the pair and, before long, she fell asleep against the wall. The ghoul had helped her body lie down without waking her up and thought about their next destination after Preston gave his medical advice.

Hopefully, she'd take it well.


	4. Chapter 4: Rotunda

**This is merely an Intermission. Not much importance happens here and I thought it'd be nice to let you know how she felt before they moved on. Also this is to tide you over for a while. The next chapter is going to be pretty long and I'm hoping it'll be done sooner rather than later. Let me know if you guys have any questions that don't involve spoilers for the story.**

**JadeObsession: Thank you :) I imagine I have her retaliate a lot since she has been wronged before and generally doesn't like the feeling.**

**AikaOokami: Thank you thank you thank you! It means a lot to know that other people see that I really did work on this particular character. I feel like Charon gets jealous in a lot of stories though. In my story, he's been in the Ninth Circle for so long that he didn't know who Gob was. I imagine the guy never went into a place like that with Ahzrukhal there. At least how I think of him. **

**Thank you for all my reviews! They make me write more and a variety of readers and reviewers make me smile.**

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><p>There was nothing he could do.<p>

Charon felt absolutely useless as he walked around the Jefferson Memorial. The walls were stained with the blood of Super Mutants, spilled by him and his employer. He could just hear the echo of his gunshots against the steel walls just over the triumphant cries of Flood's victory. He exited the basement and recalled the incessant shooting of the machine gun perched on the ceiling and the whir of deactivation after she hacked its main computer and shut it down. The looks of those Mutant's faces were priceless. They weren't expecting the cowardly pair hiding behind the corner to be not so cowardly after all.

Flood wasn't beside him to recall these memories, however. She was in the basement listening to the recordings they'd found in the Rotunda.

The three Holotapes had sat forgotten on the control panel in the decontamination chamber. During a lull in the fighting, Flood had closed the door behind them and kept them inside the chamber, away from any curious Super Mutants they might not have killed nearby. Though he said it was unlikely, she insisted on causticity. Who was he to argue with causticity? Not Charon, that's for damn sure.

A voice had come from those tapes. Flood reacted violently and vaulted it across the room, while Charon found an extreme dislike for the particular person it belonged to. Neither of them had expected the tapes to have been left by her father. He seemed to be picking up after himself up until now. All of a sudden he leaves these tapes, why? Flood had started screaming about it, throwing punches at the walls and attempting to crack the glass around her. Charon had to tackle her to the ground to get her to stop.

"GET THE _FUCK_ OFF OF ME!" she had screamed in his decaying face. He didn't budge, putting her personal safety above his fear of punishment. She hadn't punished him so far, so why should he fear it?

It turns out there is plenty to fear if she's angered enough. Though she didn't physically harm him, she did start insulting him and degrading his appearance. "You don't know shit about what I'm going through, and you want me to just keep this shit in?" she screamed. "You get chased out of your home by your friends and see how _you_ feel!" Mentions of his lack of skin were said and compared to his lack of a brain. "I bet anyone who was your friend turned on your when you lost skin, right? Who wants to be near that kinda face anywaY? One that looks like a fuckin' corpse!" Physical punishment was not nearly as hurtful as her words at that point, and Charon had stood and walked away before she could scream more. After that, she retreated to the basement and told him to keep anyone and everyone out of the room while she was investigating the tapes.

He did as he was told, of course, but after the episode he made an attempt to think about how he would feel were he in her situation. He wasn't sure how to go about it at first, but when he closed his eyes and imagined him being fired by Flood, he realized that it could've been the closest he could get to knowing what it felt like for her. He found himself very attached to Flood, even though she was difficult to handle. Whether it was because she held his contract or something more subconscious, he didn't know. Then he threw her father into the picture. Why would she chase after him if she weren't even his daughter anymore? That would take more thinking about.

So there he was in the Rotunda. Flood was in the basement tending to her own self and processing thoughts through her brain while he took a second and walked around, clearing his mind.

It didn't take long for him to turn around and start back towards the basement to see what was happening. She was obsessed with keeping to herself whenever she felt threatened emotionally. Actually, she told him that herself. Flood had said it on their way to the Rotunda.

"I'm not big on strangers knowing I'm upset," she said while kicking a rock down the shoreline. "I'd rather them see that I'm angry enough to hurt them rather than hurt enough to cry. Makes me more intimidating that way. The more intimidating I am, the less people bother me."

But now, with only Charon around, she broke down crying in her father's room. She had found one more Holotape and after hearing the voice, Charon thought it best to just leave her be.

Her sobs echoed over the lasting shocks of the gunfire from a half an hour before. Dead Mutant corpses littered the Memorial and Charon stood in the Rotunda, waiting for her to finish.


	5. Chapter 5: Vulnerability

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><p>Home sweet home. Was that what she called it? Charon's gaze swept over the two story house hanging on the fringe of falling apart. The metal was rusting and furniture was as makeshift as makeshift could possibly get. The fridge barely worked, the doors creaked whenever they opened, and the windows were hardly reliable when it came to defending a fort. The only real defense is the floating robot called Wadsworth, whose defenses included flame-throwing, drilling, and sawing. Other than that, it gives haircuts and dispenses purified water bottles. To Charon, it didn't seem very dangerous, but he supposed it was good for housekeeping and making sure intruders don't get in.<p>

By the time he'd finished his silent evaluation, Flood had tossed her duster at the robot (it landed on his crane arm) and climbed the stairs into a room directly above the kitchen, which was directly in front of him. "Make yourself at home!" she called down to him as she closed the door far enough to leave it ajar. "I'll go find you a bed somewhere and drag it in this room, so you can have a place to sleep!"

"I can sleep on the workbench." he offered. He didn't want her doing work while she was injured as she was.

Flood took a moment to peek out of the room and stare at Charon as if he were an alien. "...what workbench?" The Ghoul pointed to his left at the workbench sitting beside the locker. She walked out and leaned against the railing overlooking the first floor. "That wasn't here when I left last time, Wadsworth."

"Ah yes, Miss Brown came by and dropped it off as a thank you gift." the robotic octopus thing confirmed. "A thank you for helping her in her research with Radiation."

Charon became concerned when Flood made a face. "What radiation?"

"Nothing. She just did some tests when I was radiated out of my ass. No biggie."

"No biggie?" he questioned. "You could've gotten sick and died. Or worse."

"Relax, she fixed me after she did her thing. Besides, what's worse than death?" she teased. "I wouldn't have minded being a Ghoul. I think I'd pull off the look well. Isn't that right Wadsworth?"

The robot sounded like it would smile if it could. "Why miss, you could pull off any fashion statement you desire to wear."

She smiled and retreated into the room. "Thank you, Wadsworth. That's very kind of you."

"As is my duty, madam." Somehow Charon felt jealous. He didn't know why.

"But my point stands, Charon," she called again, tossing a bag of stuff over the railing and onto the floor at his feet. "Do me a favor-" Charon picked up the bag and stared at the shelves off beside the stairway, expecting a job. "-tell Wadsworth to organize all that stuff in places down there while we go find you a mattress." Charon looked at the floating robot, who used its mechanical claw to take the bag and carry it into the kitchen. Flood hopped down the stairwell with a smile and a new bandage on her bicep. "Maybe if we're lucky, we'll find a bed-spring!"

"Yes, Miss."

Flood stopped before she opened the door. "I've changed my mind. Don't call me 'miss' ever again. Call me Flood anywhere we go." Charon furrowed his brow in confusion. Didn't she say call her Miss in public? Weren't they accompanied by a robot? Flood opened the door and paused at the railing to the right, taking in the afternoon scene of Megaton. "Turns out it's damaging my reputation. People think I'm a slaver. You're not a slave, and don't make that face you know it's true."

"I didn't mean to say anything," he said. "You want me to call you by your name because it's good for your reputation?"

He hadn't expected her to turn and smirk at him. That lopsided way she smirked whenever she was in a playful mood. "Yeah, but DC isn't like the dead ground out here. That's more the place to get attacked if you don't have the right..." She paused for a moment. "...outlook? Is that a good word? Hmm, maybe not…"

"You always call me your partner."

"And you are. Didn't you notice Three Dog talking about it on the radio the other day?" No, he hadn't. He was busy skinning Mole-Rats for trading while she slept to the music. "It's all about image, my decaying friend. Image is what matters out in the city area. Give them the right impression and people won't be thinking about killing you. Dammit, what's the word…"

It was a thought process he didn't understand, but he didn't question it further. He could already pick out the curious people from the moving crowd below. They looked up at the new Ghoul in their town as if he were a psychopathic timebomb. He rubbed a leather clad hand over his neck and sighed as discreetly as he could. Flood caught it though. Not being able to see in one eye has made her attentive to the detail in sound. However, she kept that knowledge to herself. She figured he didn't need her questioning his every breath.

"So the mattress-"

"I'll get it." Charon said before Flood made up a plan to get it herself. "You've been walking all day. You should rest."

"Not tired yet. The Nuka-Cola hasn't made me crash yet."

Why did she have to be so difficult sometimes? Couldn't she just do as he suggested just once? "Then go get drunk. I will go get the bed and you...stop doing things." Charon argued. Without saying anything, Flood turned her head toward a building somewhere above the bomb. Her face scrunched slightly at the sight of the large sign that said "Moirarty's Saloon" in huge western lettering meant for pre-war bars. The ghoul followed her gaze. "May I ask a question?"

"No, Charon, you can't ask questions," she said sarcastically. "I'll never allow you to have a free mind ever."

"I assume that's sarcasm-"

"When you assume you make an ass out of you and me."

"You're not making any sense."

Flood sighed and turned her head, adjusting the eye-patch to help it sit better. "What the hell is your question, Charon?"

He took a moment before speaking. "Is that where 'Helen' died?"

"Yeah. I go there all the time though. Nova and Gob are friends. When you find a good mattress, you should meet them. Nova could probably get you to _relax for once_!" Flood emphasized the part where she wanted Charon to relax by yelling it and hitting him in the arm. "And don't strain yourself about the whole mattress thing either. If anything I'll rent a room and hang with Nova for the night and you can hang in the house."

"No," he said. "I'd rather be near you in case-"

"In case what, I get stabbed? Shot?" Flood jabbed her pointer finger into his chest. "Look, I can handle myself. I lasted almost two goddamn months without you!"

"That was before you became half blind."

Rage darkened her face and she grabbed at his collar, rearing back her fist to hit him square in the jaw, but didn't. She held back before she threw it. She pushed him away, sighing as Flood lowered her fist, running her hand through her hair again. Charon knew she wouldn't risk losing him. Then again, antagonizing her wasn't going to help either. With a sigh, he stepped back and leaned against the railing backwards. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"Whatever." Flood turned around and started walking toward the bar, her hand still grasping at her brown locks and clawing at the back of her neck. "I'm going to get drunk, do whatever the fuck you want to do."

"Flood, please," he tried to call, but she ignored him while keeping her normal pace. Her leather jacket shined against the raw sunlight above them and her hair glowed, highlighting any imperfections in each strand. Her skin was hidden, but her jeans were torn and ripped. Her arm was bandaged from a gunshot from a raider not long ago, and her neck looked red and scratched whenever her bandaged hand wasn't going at it. Her grassy eye didn't even move to glance behind at him, and though it hurt him that she was so angry at him, Charon did nothing to bring her back and talk to her about their social misunderstanding.

It was about that time when he realized how…well…_skinny_ she was. She looked pale as anything, despite the constant sunlight burning her sensitive Vaultie skin, and the dark circles under her eyes meant she was having a horrible lack of sleep he'd been trying to cure her of since she started taking Buffout. Not that she cared that it was a steroid in the first place, but even so, it cut up her sleeping pattern. Charon didn't think he'd be surprised if she passed out in the middle of the bar! And no one would know to come find him, so he decided to introduce himself after searching the outskirts of Megaton for something resembling a mattress. If not, maybe the Craterside Supply had a decent couch they'd let him buy…

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><p>Only three people seemed happy to see Flood walk through the doors of the saloon, and only two of them were confused at the new choice of facial accessories. Gob's remaining skin turned pale at the sight of the eye patch. "Hey, welcome back Smoothskin!" he greeted, knowing that it might be a tetchy subject for her. Her eye was glazed over and distant as she glanced at the room before settling her eyes on her first Wasteland friend.<p>

"Hey, Gob, what's goin' on?" she said with a grin. "Business treating you fair so far?"

"Eh, been better days," he admitted before pulling out some whiskey under the bar.

Nova walked over from the corner of the room and stood beside the half-blind woman. "Hello again, Flood. You just stopping by again?" Flood turned and brushed her hair from her face and smirked.

"Yeah, found Dad's trail again and I think he back tracked past Vault 101, to 112 instead," she said as she slid caps across the counter and traded for the whiskey.

"112? Never heard of it," Gob said. The clanking of caps crashed in the register and he picked up the glass he was cleaning before.

Flood shrugged. "Apparently there's quite a few around. I heard there was one up North somewhere. I think its ninety somethin'." A swig from the whiskey caused her to sit back and sigh a heavy, happy sigh. Nova sat down on Flood's exposed lap and took the whiskey for a swig of her own.

"I gotta discount for you if you buy me my own, sugah," she said as she handed it back. Flood smirked and kept her hand on Nova's thigh as she ordered another one for the whore on her lap. For a second, she thought of Charon before taking another sip. After that she abandoned the thought and conversed with her friends.

* * *

><p>Charon wasn't a fan of the broken-spring mattress he'd found at Moira's store. He managed to get it for free if he gave her a chunk of his peeling skin. Luckily, there was a bit on his arm that he didn't mind losing. It had gone numb long ago anyway. After he carried the mattress up the ramp and laid it down in the center of the house, he made for Moirarty's Saloon. He kept his shotgun at home, but his combat knife was close to his hip and within reaching distance if people didn't take to ghouls too well around that area.<p>

The decaying door was loose on its hinges and squeaked loudly as it opened. Upon entry, the ghoul spotted his employer instantly. The whore on her lap was noticed second. Gob wasn't regarded at all; Charon had been too busy staring at Flood. Observations previously made were instantly questioned and his image of her was becoming obscured. Who the hell was Flood?! She never came off as a lesbian. In fact, Charon thought she was even flirting with him at times.

His gut felt tight and he didn't know why.

"Hey, Charon!" Flood yelled at him. Her cheeks were tinted red and her words were compressed together. "You gotta meet Gob and Nova! They're my best friends!"

Charon didn't move from beside the open door. Nova took the initiative and stood up to meet him. "Hi, I'm Nova. You know Gob yet?" She held her hand out to shake his, but again, his stature remained unchanged.

Blatantly ignoring her, Charon looked up at Flood. "It's getting late," he said.

"How dark is it?" Her voice was serious and normal for Charon, yet slurred slightly from the alcohol still. Charon appreciated the change she made for him.

"The sun set a half an hour ago. I recommend we go home."

"Meh, don't wanna." Flood reached for her whiskey. "Not alotta booze at home. Besides, home is boring. Nova and Gob can't come home with us."

Nova gave up getting Charon's attention and moved to place herself on Flood's lap again. Just as this happened, a door opened behind the bar and out came an old man wearing a leather jacket. The sleeves were torn off and his bare, muscular arms were too large for the short white sleeves of the t-shirt he wore. His jeans were worn and covered in booze. His brown eyes locked onto Nova, and then Flood, whom locked her green eyes right back to his and glared.

The man scoffed. "I hope she paid yeh," he said, briefly moving his eyes over Nova's posture. It was closer to her than he would've liked.

"Of course she-"

"A'course I did, old man. The hell do you think I am, a moron?" she asked. Charon didn't need to be told that her sarcasm stemmed from past experiences. "I ain't as armed as I should be and hell you probably are. Besides, Nova deserves double her pay with what she goes through daily."

"I think she deserves what she earns," the old Irishman said. "She's got herself a good setup here, lass. Don't destroy yours and get on me bad side."

Charon stepped forward, pulling out his combat knife. "Don't threaten Flood." The woman stood and held her hand out toward Charon, her eyes glaring and sobered. Moirarty pulled his own pistol and aimed for the Ghoul and the other souls in the room ducked down in silent watching. The old bar creaked with the heaviness of tension as Flood attempted to coax Charon out of the bar while keeping all the blood cells in their respective bodies. Though she didn't believe Moirarty was a respective body that blood didn't deserve to be in, she still would rather attempt to keep things as clean as possible.

Her bodyguard, however, was not so peaceful. Charon wanted to shoot the man's face off or at least gut him. The thought of this man even remotely harming his employer was enough to anger him; the act of it would throw him into a rage.

Flood turned her head toward Charon and saw his narrowed eyes. They practically bled with malice. After realizing why, she stood up and walked toward the door. "I'll be back in in a sec, gotta talk to Charon."

"Got yerself a slave, did ya?" Moirarty called before she exited the door. Charon turned back and attempted to charge, but Flood pushed him out the door before he could reenter the building.

Before she closed the saloon door, Flood turned and spit on the ground. "Only when you and I get married, baby!" The metal clashed against the threshold and an echo flew through Megaton. Light still touched the dead earth inside the walls, but just barely. Charon was leaning on the railing when she approached him and lit up another cigarette. "Wanna talk?"

"No."

She smiled. It was one of the rare times where he felt angry enough to stand up and do what he wanted. Though she wished he did it when he wasn't as livid as he was. "Now you do. Why'd you come out here to get me?" she asked. "You don't like people anyway, and you know bars attract more."

Charon hummed, though with his dry throat it almost seemed like a growl. He gave no verbal answer either way and Flood kicked at the flimsy railing. It was recently repaired, she saw. It should've been repaired long ago after she left. How long has it been since it broke under her weight? Three months? The side of her mouth twitched downward and she chose to forget the memory.

"Charon, I asked a question," she pressed, blowing smoke against his back. The ghoul saw the smoke laze past his shoulders and pour out into the irradiated air, joining its cancerous friend.

"I remembered what happened and didn't want it to happen again."

"What? What ha-…oh, that." She remembered the time in Rivet City, after seeing Dr. Li. She spilled Helen's little heart out, and barely remembered telling the story. "That doesn't explain your attitude toward Nova. And you didn't even acknowledge Gob."

"Gob?"

"The other ghoul. He was the bartender?"

Charon shook his head. He hadn't paid attention. "I was too busy looking at the whore on your lap."

"What?!" Flood flicked the dead cigarette at him, having it land at his shoes. "Nova isn't a whore, she's a courtesan! Courtesans have sex with grace, and she has plenty of fucking grace."

The sound of his boot against the railing bounced off the different walls all over Megaton. He kept his mouth shut and Flood was becoming frustrated. The silence was tense and she was getting pissed. She hated silences with people she wanted to talk to, especially Charon. He was generally a good listener but instead of listening, he was rejecting her words.

Flood kicked his boot lightly. "Why are you being difficult?" she asked. Charon didn't look away from the darkening sky above the buildings. "Why aren't you listening? You're better than that, come on now!" Still no words of retaliation, no apologies or submissive terms.

"Come on! You're acting like your-…oh." Flood's eyes widened. Charon looked at her through the corner of his eye. "You're jealous, aren't you?"

"What?"

"You heard me." Flood smirked that wayward smirk she had when she had an interesting thought in her head. "You're jealous I had a woman on my lap. Or is it the other way around?"

The ghoul turned towards her, his face lightening from the anger but easing towards confusion. "What are you talking about?"

She laughed suddenly. It caught him off guard. Was this the whiskey talking? This was a whole new development of weird, Charon decided. He was beginning to think she was unstable. Flood eased up on the laughter and leaned on the railing. "You're jealous you don't have a woman to sit on your lap!"

Charon scoffed. "I've long abandoned that mindset years ago. Do you think I'd ever get anyone intimately near me anyway?"

"Hell, I would," Flood shrugged. "You ain't bad on the eyes considering. And I'd rather screw you than anyone else I know out here. Besides Nova, but I only did once to see what it's like to be with a girl, you know?"

He was in utter shock. Did she admit he was attractive to her? Attractive, period? Him, a ghoul with his skin peeling everywhere and exposed muscles flexing whenever he _killed someone_, was attractive? Instead of asking why that confession had just transpired, he asked "Why the hell do you need to know what sex with a woman feels like? You are one!"

Flood, again, shrugged. "It's different when your pressed against someone else's…well, as opposed to having a guy ramming you-"

"Okay, I get the picture." Vividly.

"Alright then, you asked."

The silence emerged again and Charon felt himself lighter inside. It was that she liked him more than the whore that made him feel better. His gut didn't feel so twisted, but then it felt as though it were floating. It felt weird, but better than before. Flood didn't seem to mind the fact that she just basically told him she'd have sex with him instead of anyone else in the Wastes. It was a nice feeling, but unfamiliar. Wasn't there another ghoul in town? The bartender, right? The whore distracted him far too much.

"Well, I'm going to finish my drink and I'll meet you back at the house," Flood said. "Remember how to get there from here?"

He nodded.

"Good." Flood turned and put her hand on the knob and before turning it she looked over. "Lighten up, will ya? You're too depressed. Go drink at home so you don't get embarrassed, okay?" She walked back in with her wayward smile and disappeared past the threshold.

Charon heard a loud cry of pain. When he spun around to see the cause, Flood came flying back out of the bar with a knife in her chest.

The knife to Moirarty's throat was quick and marked with unprecedented speed. If Flood hadn't been too busy focusing on the sharp metal thing still in her chest, she would've been proud and congratulated him on his fine work. Her back slid down the metal railing and her eyes looked up at the darkening sky. Charon constantly shouted her name, trying to get her to focus on him rather than going into shock. Nova came out with the bar's First-Aid kit and Gob ran off to get Dr. Hoff down by the bomb.

Instead of letting Nova do the work, Charon grabbed the kit and pulled out the stimpacks. Setting them to the side, he picked up a Med-X needle and jabbed it into her heart. Her eyes widened for a moment before relaxing her body against the ground.

"We have to get the knife out!" Nova shouted, reaching for the blade.

Charon grabbed her wrist. "No, it'll make her bleed more. We need her blood to slow so we can take it out carefully." He stabbed another needle into her heart and Nova moved so she could move Flood's head onto her lap.

"Sweetie, can you hear me?" she said, trying to speak over the voices of onlookers. "Baby you gotta wake up and tell the Doc what happened."

Flood said nothing, her head lolling to one side then the other, observing what was around her. Charon injected her with more Med-X, holding his fingers to her elbow, waiting for telltale signs of slowed blood flow. Nova sniffled sadness back and blinked away tears. "Helen, wake up."

There was that name, Charon noticed. Did they meet Helen? They knew who she was? Perhaps it was what she introduced herself as when she first arrived. He could imagine an innocent Vaultie not knowing where she's going or what she's doing walking into a bar and seeing a ghoul for the first time. No doubt she freaked out. After she would make her new friends, they would ask her name and she would respond "Helen Flood." Maybe she even said the words "Have you seen my Daddy?"

Looking at her face, dulled with drugs, alcohol and shock, he could see the broken Helen that was no more. That was what the girl on the inside looked like compared to the woman's smirk. Flood would always have quips back at inappropriate people, threats that get her out of sticky situations and a silver tongue for bargaining and persuading to get what she wants. The difference from all the other broken residents of the barren land around them was that she knew she was broken, and accepted the change as a whole new person. Others would dwell on things that were lost, and more couldn't be more bothered with learning fancy words and making something from the misfortunes that were their miserable lives.

The girl below him was a shell. The broken shards of Helen sat atop as a protection for Flood, who hid beneath the pointy disguise. Her slight muttering didn't help Charon think she was still sane, but even so, the poor girl seemed to have no idea what was going on.

Before Charon could set down the last needle, her breaths shuttered a moment before her chest shot up and her lungs inhaled as if she weren't breathing for hours. The air that exited was in the form of a bloodcurdling scream. Nova flinched and Charon moved to keep her flat against the ground. What happened? She shouldn't have reacted that violently. "NO!" she screamed. "No more falling! I can't feel the ground!"

Nova's face turned panicked as the girl beneath her started to flail her arms and try to stand up, screaming in pain and crying in fear. "Baby, it's okay! You're not falling!" Flood didn't seem to hear her. Charon looked over the railing and saw the bartender ghoul running back with a man behind him, running the same pace but less enthusiastic about it. She needed to calm down before she hurt someone, and from what he heard about Doc Church, someone who made it difficult wasn't someone he would do business with, no matter how many caps they had. Luckily, they had plenty, but unluckily, they could only afford so much. The man could charge as much as he wanted; he was the only doctor for miles. And they couldn't travel miles at that point.

"Charon, do something!" Nova yelled at the ghoul. He turned toward the orange headed woman and then back at Flood.

She reached out and grabbed his collar, pulling him down toward her. Her green eye pierced his soul and the dull one stared as if saying it didn't care. "Don't let me fall!" she screeched. _"I ORDER YOU TO SAVE ME!"_

His heart jerked and Charon's hands grabbed at the back of her head, wrapping his fingers in her hair. "_NO_!" he screamed back. His voice was harsh and his throat felt like it was ripping. "I won't stop you from falling!"

"Charon! What-" Nova looked shocked that he rejected the help she pleaded for. She had a knife in her chest and this buffed out ghoul following her around just screamed that he wouldn't help her.

"You're going to fall forever!"

Nova turned back and screamed. "GOB! HURRY!"

Charon tightened his grip around her head and shook, trying to keep her attention on his words for as long as possible. "You'll never hit the ground! Not while I'm here! Do you hear me?!"

Flood's eyes were wide, the sharp green betraying her fear and just as the Doc knelt beside her by the time she lolled her head to the side, asleep within the haze of the drugs.

Her healing didn't waste any time. After a few hours in the Doc's office, Gob and Nova helped Charon carry her back to the house, where she would be safer than with the Doctor in case Jericho wasn't fond of the death of the owner of his favorite bar. It seemed like him, Nova had said, and asked if they could stick around to make sure Flood was alright. Sometimes the Doc missed infections with difficult patients after all. Her random spurts of consciousness were accompanied by rage and Charon would have to restrain her until she was out cold again.

So there they sat, Charon standing against the threshold of Flood's room while Gob and Nova sat in the main room drinking water the robot had offered them. Gob kept looking up at Charon, knowing exactly who he was. It didn't surprise him that Charon hadn't a clue who Gob was. Gob hardly went into the Ninth Circle, and neither did the few friends he had there. At one point he tried to ask Charon about Ahzrukhal, but the stoic man said "Dead" and that was that. End of conversation.

Nova and Gob retired in the living room. Gob took the floor and she took a space on the floor in Flood's sleeping bag. Something told Charon that his employer wouldn't mind it smelling like the whore's weird shampoo. What the hell could've possibly been in her hair, Bloatfly Honey? The pale ghoul caught the elder's attention at last. He didn't know him from Underworld, but the stray thought of Flood having sex with Gob passed his mind and wondered if she complimented Charon's supposed "good looks" because that's what she liked when she was drunk. His blue eyes stared at his employer, injured from his lack of ability to protect her. His jaw clenched, but somehow he managed to keep himself from grinding his teeth. This wasn't the first time this had happened and Charon was beginning to think he wasn't cut out for the job. He was getting lazy, pointless. He would get fired if he ceased doing his job for her properly. Dying was the only way to truly get rid of the damn contract that bound his soul to Flood and he figured her for a mercy killer.

A few hours of exercises went through his mind before Flood opened her eyes and realized where she was. Her body jerked up and the chest wound was remembered the hard way. Charon bolted over before she could fall back and scream. He covered her mouth and supported her back as she laid back down, growling in pain and clenching her right hand on Charon's arm. Her left was in a cast to limit movement and pain on that side of her chest.

"We're at the house. It's fine," he said before he started easing her back down. She kept looking around the room and then looked at the sling around her arm. Her breaths were heavy each time she exhaled and her eyes wide.

"…what time is it?" she asked. "Did the sun set?"

"Yes, and is going to rise again soon."

"Mm…" Flood relaxed and let her head loll to the side. "What happened?" It wasn't phrased as though she particularly cared about the response.

Charon answered anyway, seeing as how she asked. "Moirarty stabbed you on your way back inside the bar. I slit his throat and Gob went to get the Doctor." He paused. "The woman Nova was very concerned about you."

"Yeah, well I would be too if she were stabbed by that asshole." She blinked. "You killed him then?"

"Yes, Flood."

"Good…" Flood sighed, letting her eyelids go heavy. "Good. Now I don't have to deal with it until tomorrow.

Charon furrowed his brow. "Come again?"

"I got stabbed, so generally the ones with a sense of decency in this hellhole will leave me alone until I start walking around on my own." She chuckled lightly, then cringed at the pain in her lung. "They'll start bitchin' 'bout 'Oh, you killed our main source of income!' 'Crap, now where am I gonna get my drinks?' Boo fucking hoo, I really couldn't give two shits." Another pause flew by silently. "I'll give one when they start crying about it, but that's as far as it's goin'."

Charon had ended up ignoring the thundering that was Gob's footsteps up the stairs. He couldn't ignore it anymore when the ghoul stormed into the room and sighed in relief. "Thank god your alive!"

Flood tried to sit up again, but once more, Charon kept her down. "Ow, stop that! Gob, what are you doin' here?"

"Nova and I wanted to make sure you were alright, so we stayed the night," he explained. "Charon said he didn't care."

"What about the bar? Won't people steal from it?"

"I couldn't care less about that piece of shit place." Nova had run up the stairs and joined him, sitting on her friend's bedside and holding her hand. Flood appreciated the effort. "I hate that place, sweetcheeks, so I reckon that place can just go burn for all I care."

Flood smacked Charon's hand away and attempted to sit up again. Her brown hair was too long, she noted, and decided to have Wadsworth cut it later. Her bones felt misused and her chest was a whole other story. "Stupid. You two should at least claim it as a house or some shit," she said, still getting Charon to keep her from lying down again. "You gotta live somewhere. At least live there together and shit. The Brass Lantern sells food all the time, don't it?"

The larger ghoul had taken this chance to leave his employer with the two. He walked into the room he claimed as his own and stood with the door open so he could hear them talk. They wouldn't harm her. They went through all the trouble to keep her alive. Nova's face was too easy to read. She obviously cared about the girl as much as Charon did…perhaps that was a poor choice of words? No matter. Charon dismissed the thought. Gob, however, had even run to the Doctors and brought him up to make sure his friend was alright. Others had just stared through the doorway and over the balcony, wondering why Flood was screaming as loud as she was. She hardly ever screamed, they must've thought. The only time she screamed like that was when the bastard threw her over the railing, but no, we won't do anything about her now like we didn't do before.

Pricks.

The ghoul pulled his Combat Shotgun out from the corner and began to clean it. Barrel to trigger to holster to the innards of the mechanics. He didn't want to use the work bench. He never used one before, so to him it was more like a desk than anything else. He preferred fixing it closer, so he can fix it wherever the need arises no matter if there's a workbench around. Ahzrukhal didn't have a work bench. Only a few of his employers did. Two, since he was thinking about it.

The pair finally left. They went back to the closed bar, Charon didn't hear why. He mostly didn't care. He didn't like them because they knew Helen. He believed they never accepted her change. Why would they? Helen was the nice one, unbiased, new, vulnerable. Something to look over and raise on their own. They wanted to keep her perfect so she could keep herself out of trouble and perhaps even in town to help them survive. They didn't factor in that perhaps she was too innocent. Too innocent to know not to fight back when she knew she couldn't win. Too righteous. Too uneducated on the ways of the Wasteland. Flood is the effect of their carelessness and still they wish they had their Helen back.

Charon didn't. He liked this version. She knew better, she wasn't stupid. He can imagine Helen getting on his nerves. Flood wasn't vulnerable, but she had holes. Charon was beginning to believe Helen wasn't as dead as Flood seemed to believe. Because she had holes; holes her childish fears have created and will leave no room for healing.

He barely heard the robot entering the room. After his mind calmed itself of philosophical reflections, he could hear its jet exhaust pushing against the ground, then a clank, followed closely by a curse laced with pain. The ghoul jumped up and, shotgun in hand, he got ready to bust in the door. Then he remembered. She's not stupid. She's not vulnerable.

So he knocked instead. "Flood."

He heard her curse. "Ah, yeah what?"

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine."

The robot spoke next. "Are you sure madam? That is quite a lot of blood…"

The door swung open and it's hinges broke without any hint of silent suffering. The door fell off the threshold and Charon had his gun raised at the robot. "What happened?!" The blood Wadsworth spoke of was all around her head. A ripped cloth was held over her ear. The focus on the bloody rag didn't distract him from the frustrated look on his employer's face.

"Who the hell told you it was fine to walk in?" She spared a glance at the door. "Dammit you broke the door, Charon!"

"I apologize, miss, though it seems you are injured. It is a reaction you will find desired later on in our travels."

"I really hope you're not telling fortunes like a psychic. I don't need psychics." Flood shooed the robot out the door, telling him Charon's weapon was not to be taken as a threat, and watched it putter out the door. The pair could barely hear the insults containing the words "rude" and "ignorant".

Flood motioned Charon over to the chair at the desk and ordered him to sit. He obeyed. "Wanna know what happened? Fine," she said. The teenager lifted the bloody cloth to reveal a piece of metal in her ear angled diagonally. The ghoul nearly lifted the table in aggravation. What the hell was that robot doing and why wasn't she destroying it for sticking that in her ear?

Before he could ask, Flood raised her hand. "Before you kick and scream, please tell me you know what a piercing is?"

His jaw dropped. A piercing? "At this particular moment, Flood, I find that unwise and a waste of an injury," he said, drilling his knuckle into his forehead. "It's an unnecessary wound. Why would you-"

"Because I'm seeing my dad soon," she said. Her face showed no emotion but it wasn't expressed in a negative way. It just seemed like she didn't care. "My reasons are my own. But if it makes you feel better, it's called an industrial."

"No, it doesn't make me feel better."

Flood shrugged. "Eh, get some sleep. I want to leave tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" The wound in her chest had to still be painful. "That's careless. You'll wear yourself out before we walk an hour!"

Again, she shrugged. "I guess that'll be my fault, won't it?" Flood leaned back slowly against the mattress. She struggled with a sigh and relaxed when no muscles were being used. "Go on, sleep. Yell at me about being an idiot tomorrow."

Charon stood and left, ignoring the missing door. Perhaps he was wrong about being stupid in the Wasteland if she wasted blood over a _decoration_. He didn't close his door, only left it open a crack. He didn't feel like breaking that one too in case something really did happen. He mulled over Flood's recent action carefully. Why why why? Nothing came to mind when he tried to justify her actions. She mentioned her father, was his approval a contributing factor? Or perhaps a lack thereof? If she wanted him to be angry, then what was the point? Simply leave him to die. That'd make anyone angry. Was it a symbol of rebellion? What would that accomplish? Her father had already accomplished rebellion in his own form and even tore apart his own family life for it.

Whatever it was, it was giving him a headache. Hopefully he'd get an answer if they find her father. If he was alive to see the recent change…

* * *

><p><em><strong>Remember, review ideas on what you want to happen, what towns to visit, and others. I wanna see what you guys come up with and see if you're all still interested.<strong>_


	6. Chapter 6: Blood Bath

**_REVIEW TIME_**

**_Tashtastic: _**_I think Charon finds her pretty frustrating too. Yay for frustrating protagonists in the good way!  
><strong>Prinzessin Mia: <strong>Your blood bath has arrived, my Prinzessin! I had planned for them to make a stop there anyway, but I hadn't planned on having write it out. I'm afraid that's why my update took so long between school and nearly full-time but not quite there yet part-time work. But yay! I got it!  
><strong>Too-Fly: <strong>I don't know if that's constructive criticism or hate happening on the piercing. I'll explain: The piercing was chosen to help give her a sense of individuality among the other Wastelanders. Albiet, thinking back it may have been a poor choice, but hey, things happen and I roll like a rock down a hill with these things. You also mentioned drugs. I mentioned it once, and I've put more emphasis on the alcohol. Drugs are thus rendered invalid in your argument, but everything else is noted.  
><strong>MagickTouchBassist: <strong>Loving the long review! I'm very violent with characters I write. I've read a lot of the multi-chapter fics on CharonxWanderer, and to make sure I was doing this as close to the perceived skill-level as possible, I played through a specific way. Spending a month in Megaton while running errands for Moira, I made sure I found the .44 before seeing Charon, and I was pretty good at killing things by then. I was nearly running into Deathclaws by the time I started for Dad's Vault adventure. The frustration can be pressing at times, but her entire life turned in several different directions a few months ago. I would expect emotional trauma would cause mood swings. Does that answer some "Why is she mad?" questions? Tenpenny Tower has been noted, and will happen soon. As for the hugs and kisses, well, that will happen in time. Be patient with me, alright? I may be a slow updater but I promise the hugs and kisses will be worth the wait. _

_I'm really sorry for the delay. I've had other chapters written previously, but it seems I've lost my flashdrive with all of my writing on it for the third time and it's probably gone forever. Though a rewrite can't be too bad, I'm afraid this is no excuse for my delay. School and Work seem to be the most common excuses, and that's pretty good in my book. And so it shall be: I'm making a living. Bear with me._

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><p>"Evergreen Mills," Charon began as he peered through the detached scope. "The Vault should be past this."<p>

Flood said nothing as she looked over the setting on her own. After Charon was finished with the scope he handed it back to her. She clicked it right back on her .44. "See anything we want?" she asked.

"Nothing on the outside. The building inside is large and could hold promising things, but it would also bring about a lot of Raiders ready to kill us."

"That's a bad thing." Flood determined. Charon hummed in agreement. "Do they look stupid?"

"They all look stupid no matter where they're holed up."

Flood reached into her pack and dug out a silencer. The ghoul beside her doubted it would fit well with the scope attached. He grabbed the gun and customized barrel and messed with it himself. "You can't have the scope on at the same time unless you take these off..." The silencer twirled on and secured just below the scope, which had two pieces of the attachment removed. "Your focus will be off, so aim like you did before the scope."

She scoffed and took the gun. "You mean when I had two working eyes?"

"You'll manage."

The gun went off without a hitch. The bullet soared through a raider stationed above the slave pen. Flood out a sound of approval and aimed for a second raider. The raiders didn't notice their downed partner, but the slaves in the pen noticed the trickle of blood oozing into their cage. The next one was guarding the slaves also, and he went down without a suspicion raised. This was too easy, she thought to herself. Then, a gleam by the slaves. Something none of them were going for.

"Charon," she said.

"Yes?"

"There's a sniper rifle on the ground by the slave pens," Flood said with a grin. "I want it."

He knew what that meant. "As you wish, Flood," he said seriously and prepared his shotgun for slaughter.

In the next ten minutes, Charon had slid down the rocky slope and jumped from the rooftop to the ground in a secure landing. He ran in the opposite direction first, firing his gun at the first raider to cross his sights. Unlike the .44 Flood carried, his gun was not to be silenced and ran forward with the drive of a soldier. Through nearly endless piles and foams of blood and gore, he made his way around the camp toward the rifle his employer wanted so badly. With Flood picking off clueless, unorganized raiders and Charon moving forward like a pre-war super soldier, the raiders didn't stand a chance.

Needless to say, it was a successful effort.

Charon set the gun on the ground and watched the Behemoth he'd unleashed three minutes prior wander looking for something to do. Flood turned her attention toward her new sniper rifle. Charon couldn't imagine a bigger grin on her face. She looked as if Christmas had come early, if she even celebrated such a thing. He guessed not. The Vault probably didn't even know what religion was.

"Hmm..." Charon looked over at his employer. She had already taken apart the rifle and was prepared to clean it. "This thing is spotless, and by the looks of its previous owner, it was done professionally. Someone fixes guns here."

"Could be they've forced those prisoners to do that," Charon suggested.

"Then we free the prisoners and get them to clean our gear."

Charon felt his chest bubble up on the inside. "Flood, I clean our guns fine."

"I know you do. You do a great job, Charon. Really, you do." Flood clasped the last pin into the rifle and readied it. "Figured you'd want a break is all. You work real hard, you know that?"

He said nothing else and turned back to the Behemoth in the distance. Flood watched him warily, knowing he was, for some reason, feeling inadequate. She ran a hand through her hair and pulled the gun strap over her shoulder and stood. "Come on, the prisoners can't free themselves."

Charon watched her start to stand and grabbed her duster before she could get too far. As Flood opened her mouth to protest, Charon spoke. "Test the Rifle on the Behemoth. It won't see it coming, it doesn't even know we're here."

She smiled that wayward smile she wears so often. "I knew there's a reason I like you so much." Charon's stomach churned, but kept the feeling inside rather than ask about it. He watched as Flood lowered herself gently onto her belly, minding her wound, and brought the stock to her shoulder while moving her eye patch so she wouldn't be distracted. Charon looked her up and down. She was still skinny, but the duster and leather jacket underneath that kept it so no one noticed outright. Her skin was covered enough to avoid sunburn, but her face fell victim every time to UV radiation, the unpreventable kind. Sunscreen was extremely hard to find, if it could be found at all.

The blast of a gunshot snapped him from his thoughts and he tore his gaze toward the Behemoth. Little to no damage. The beast roared and set its sights right on them. Flood cursed and tried to sit up, but she cried out in pain when she bent the wrong way and had her ribs move the wrong direction. She looked up to see how fast the Behemoth was advancing and instead found a shadow cast over her. Charon had stood over her and was getting ready to fire his shotgun. The stock pushed back into his shoulder as the gunpowder in the bullet was lit and sent the several projectiles flying right into the Behemoth's skull. The creature wailed and held its face, then began charging right away again. Charon fired twice more, the kick back forcing him to take a small step backwards, and watched the Behemoth raise an oversized hand to its now useless eye. It cried and wailed for its lost eyesight. It had been rendered blind in one eye. Charon reloaded quickly, his movements seeming like an art, perfected and loved. He was passionate about his work, and if this weren't a clear example, then Flood couldn't decide what was.

The Super Mutant fell to its knees crying, then without much warning at all, sent a hand up and punched the cliff side. Charon stumbled and fell forward, and Flood tried to grab onto him. She had managed to grab his pant leg, but the material slipped from her hand and he fell forward. "FUCK!" she screamed. Flood managed to crawl forward to see whether he were dead or alive, and hoping to whatever higher deity existed that he was.

When she saw Charon again, he was sitting up and reaching for his lost gun. He was in pain, and that itself was an understatement. His back had slammed into hard rock and a few more loose rocks had fallen onto his stomach and chest. His stomach was fine, save for a bruise or two, but he swore he felt a rib crack or move out of place. The same went for his arm, for it felt as though it were dislocated. They were easy to fix wounds, but hard when there's a giant Behemoth nearby mad at you for shooting its eye sight to shit.

"Get up!" Charon looked up to see Flood looking over the edge. Her face looked worried, scared even. Charon felt honored and ashamed to have forced those emotions upon her. "I order you to get up!"

That was all it took. All he needed. Charon rolled onto his belly and pushed up with one arm, keeping his torso as straight as possible. Though there was pain for using his muscles, he didn't find it overwhelming. Charon set himself on his feet and grabbed the gun before rushing forward to kill the beast before it noticed Flood. The monster looked at his moving body and struck out again. Charon rolled (painfully) and fired the shotgun upwards into its face again. Without both arms, the shots were directed at the shoulder and hit that.

It didn't seem to mind the newer injury, and swiped Charon away as if he were merely a dust bunny. He flew across the courtyard into the no longer electrified fence. He could just barely hear his employer shout out his name before the Mutant came running again. His gun once again lost and his leg now injured, he waited for the coming kill. His death. Maybe now he wouldn't have to worry about failing Flood any longer.

A gunshot rang out and the Behemoth's head jerked forward before it spun around. Charon couldn't see Flood using the Sniper to distract it. "Over here, shit head!" she screamed, waving her arm to draw it nearer. The beast sprinted to her position, and Charon felt everything inside him drop like a weight.

"No!" he screamed. "Flood, run!"

But she didn't. Flood stood her ground with her mussed up hat head and her skinny as all hell body. Her bones will shatter easier, her skin will rip like paper, her body will die quickly! Charon screamed and willed his body to move. His leg failed him few times as he stood and ran for his gun to shoot it with, anything to distract it, anything to keep her safe-

Another shot rang and the Behemoth only screamed for a moment. Charon looked over and saw the hulking thing fall backwards and crash into the sandy floor, sending a small sand cloud in all directions.

Flood raised her gun so the barrel rested on her shoulder, and her empty cartridge fell down over the cliff side. "I order you to stay where you are, Charon!" she yelled down to him. "I'll come to you."

Charon did as he was told and waited. He scoffed at his own thoughts that had occurred previously. She was The Great Flood, as Three Dog had so named her, who would she be if she couldn't aim at a Behemoth's already injured eye and shoot a bullet into its brain? With a blind right eye?

A nameless dead corpse, that's who.

* * *

><p>"You didn't trust me," she said finally. It had been nearly an hour since the incident, and the pair was waiting inside the Foundry in a well-stocked room and food while keeping a fire going from pencils and wooden boards lying around.<p>

"I didn't trust the gun," Charon clarified. "It hadn't done anything but upset it, and I didn't consider its previous injury."

"Of course you didn't." Flood laid back onto the queen mattress (on a bedspring for once) and laid a hand on her knife wound, previously redressed and stuck with stimpacks. Charon looked away down the empty hallway, listening for anything outside in the main room. He eventually looked back at her again. The ribs on her left side looked bent and crooked.

"Are you hurt?" Charon asked.

"Charon, I got stabbed a couple days ago."

"No, I mean here." He rested his hand on her rib cage. They even felt strangely shaped. Flood's muscles tightened and she flinched away from his touch.

"The fuck-!" Flood sat up quickly and kicked his hand away. "Why the hell you touchin' me?!"

Charon held his hand close to himself, not wanting to make her uncomfortable any longer. "I was only pointing it out. Your ribs are shaped oddly. Are they broken? Cracked perhaps?"

Flood felt her rib cage for a moment. "I'd gotten into a lot of fights in the Vault," she confessed. Flood's eyes looked away toward something that wasn't Charon. "That's the end of that conversation."

"Understood." Charon looked at the fire. Flood did not want to talk, so it wasn't his place to pry.

She looked over at him for only a moment before lowering herself onto the larger mattress again. "I can't believe none of the prisoners knew how to clean guns," she said, breaking the silence.

Charon shrugged. "I can't believe they refuse to leave."

"I can," she said. "They're being realistic about it. They know they're screwed, so why leave? They didn't die while they were here. Hell, they were hardly touched. They prefer it if they didn't meet a painful death."

He had an idea of what she meant, but it was still strange to him. He'd always fought no matter the odds of surviving. Seeing those people that have given up was strange and unexplainable to him. Charon turned out okay, right? So why couldn't they?

"I want to know who fixed gear here." Flood rolled under her large coat. She was restless, wanting to find closure in her mind. Charon, on the other hand, wasn't too keen on going on a hunt for a probably dead man.

"It might've been a raider, Flood. Some raiders know how to clean guns."

Flood growled in frustration and ran a hand through her hair. "But none of them are clean themselves! You need to BE clean to clean properly," she said.

"What?" Charon figured she was fishing for reasons to stay. "Everyone is dirty out here, Flood. Even me, and I clean our gear fine."

"Not as filthy as raiders."

A clang rang out from outside past the door in the hallway. In less than a second, Charon had killed the small fire and Flood rolled behind the threshold, pistol drawn. Charon backed away into the shadows of the cabinet beside her and there they waited. Voices rose and fell, but despite their volume, they were obviously getting closer. Flood made a hissing noise through her teeth, and Charon moved to the other side of the hallway, where they would come if they were stupid enough.

"Who the fuck did that shit?!" One voice yelled. Masculine, mid thirties, uncivilized. Flood scrunched her nose. He probably didn't clean guns.

"We were only gone an hour! Shit...there's Rippy! And Boom Babe!"

From the sound of it, Boom Babe was the one down the hallway in the entrance way. The door around the corner opened and the movement of a body was heard. "I wanted to fuck her so bad, but Marker had claim on the bitch."

"So? Do it now, Marker's severed head is over there..."

Charon looked to Flood for instruction. They were so close, something had to be done. Flood shook her head, but kept her pistol ready. The ghoul raised his gun and aimed for the entrance.

"Sh, you hear that?" Charon tightened his grip. The material of his leather shoulder pad rubbed the jacket the wrong way.

A long silence occurred. No side moved. Flood grinned with anticipation. "I think so." Their voices had dropped to whispers now. "Think it's anyone we know?"

"If it were, they'd have talked to us by now." Charon had to commend the raider for having common sense. It wasn't as common as one would think among raiders. "Keep your gun out," he ordered.

The aforementioned gun was drawn from its holster and the sounds of boots scuffing forward were heard. Flood pointed and waved her finger. Go out the door behind you. Charon moved as Flood moved toward the room. She made more noise for the purpose of having them follow her. Charon had a plan of his own. Fire before they get too close to her. They both would take some kind of crippling damage.

As her plan had played, the two sped up their pace and rounded the corner without looking down Charon's side. He moved forward and pulled the hammer back. The second one turned too late. Charon had pulled the trigger and sent the younger one's head flying. The first one flew forward into the room onto his stomach, bleeding from the bullet wound in his back, just under his neck. Charon stood, listening for more noise in the main room. It was hard with the bleeding one crying and cursing in pain.

He looked over just in time to see Flood kneel beside him with her pistol to his face. "Do you like guns?" she asked calmly, as if it was merely small talk.

The raider choked up blood before responding. "W-what kind...of q-question is that?!" His voice was hoarse. It felt like nails on a chalkboard to Charon's ears.

"It's my question. And I'd like an answer. Do you like guns? Repairing them and the like?"

"I c-can't repair for shit...I always get Smiling Jack to do it..."

Flood tilted her head. "Where's he? Did I kill him?" She grinned maliciously. "Did I kill him like your Boom Babe? I heard you had quite the hard-on for her."

"S-she...You-"

"Me? What, I'm sick? You're sick. You live in a place like this with corpses on your door step as a decoration and Behemoths as pets defending your yard."

The raider was crying now. Charon stepped forward and stepped over the weakling. The man looked up at the ghoul with fear and sadness, regret moving every feature on his face. Flood tapped his head and had him look at her again. "That's the guy that shot you from behind. Your buddy was decapitated."

He'd started sobbing now. "I-I never wanted this life! The d-drugs, the booze...e-everything Pappy wanted from me and I g-gave him a b-bullet in his head!"

"Crying ain't gonna fix it," Flood said, moving her eye patch into her hair. The hazel eye was just that. Hazel. Her blind eye seemed so serene that it seemed to give the Raider that very same serenity. A peace came over him as he hiccuped his sadness away. "If you die all regretful, you die in a bad dream. You wanna die in a place that makes you happy, you hear?"

"A-am I goin' to heaven?"

"The way I see it, you will long as you think about the good things in your life. You'll see Boom Babe, your buddy that you came back with, maybe even Smiling Jack, yeah?"

"Naw...Smiling Jack ain't dead yet. His gun won't fail him, not till he croaks..." A smile passed on his face. "I didn't need Pappy anyway..."

The last jerk of his lungs racked his body and his life faded into the air around them. Charon felt oddly morbid watching the slow death of a regretful raider he'd shot himself, and even worse that his employer coaxed him into dying peacefully, in a way. Somehow it saddened him to see the raider sober at last and realizing his mistakes.

Flood stood, replacing her eye patch and gathering her coat. Charon took her silence as a bad thing. "Flood..."

"Hm?" Her voice didn't crack or stutter. She must be good at hiding her sadness.

"Are you alright?" He envisioned her to be very sad, but when she turned she was completely dry eyed and bored looking.

"Yeah, why?"

He looked back down at the raider. "Looked intense," he said.

Flood shrugged her shoulders. "Eh, it got me the name of the gun fixer down here." She packed up her gear and hoisted it over her shoulder. Charon hardly registered the stimpack being tossed at him. "Should fix your chest enough to walk and fight more."

Charon pulled the syringe cap off and unzipped his jacket. "You did that to find out who fixed guns?" The needle jabbed through his white muscle shirt and the serum began healing immediately.

Flood looked at him after checking her .44. "Don't tell me you're having a moral dilemma with what just happened?" She was talking as if it were a natural occurrence, to watch someone die simply for information!

"I..." He stopped himself. He shouldn't argue with her if she expected him to feel differently. "I assumed there was a different motive, I apologize," Charon said calmly. He zipped up his jacket and clasped the buckle to the shoulder pad.

Flood didn't reply, only took a swig of whiskey before exiting the room. Charon, as he always would, followed suit.

* * *

><p>Smiling Jack wasn't difficult to find. A kind of shopping center for raiders. Easy pickings, Flood had said. The raiders were poorly armed, undefended with lack of good armor, and drunk. Their shooting was off by inches, their aim giving more a spray than anything. Charon had been the main attacker while Flood worked in the shadows and moved forward as if she herself were one.<p>

They killed everyone in the main cave and worked forward. None of them looked like traders. Charon killed one in charge of a whore house, Flood took out one by the bar, and Charon slit the throat of anyone trying to get the jump on Flood.

All in all, it was a successful raid.

Flood had turned a corner and nearly ran into a drunk raider wondering what the noise was. She offed him in seconds. Charon moved forward past her and shot the other raider by the door, but the third one looked different. He wasn't high or drunk or wearing the ridiculous armor. No, he was dressed as a trader.

"God dammit..." They found him, and he was smiling.

"Sweet, now their caps are mine!" he said happily and ran forward to loot the corpses. Charon nearly shot him if Flood hadn't kept her hand on the barrel of his gun.

"You a trader or something?" Flood asked, eyeing his outfit.

The man looked up with a grin while pocketing the caps he'd just given out. "Yeah, but don't tell no one. These guys may not want nothin' to do with you but caps are caps, man."

She raised an eyebrow and held out her sniper rifle. "This look familiar?"

"Yeah I just fixed that up a few days ago."

The smile on her face was intimidating. Charon was revisiting the issue of her sanity in his head. Flood stepped forward and threw the rifle over her back. "I killed the guy you fixed it for. Actually, Charon and I just killed everyone in here. Didn't hear the noise?"

He shrugged. "Guns are always goin' off down here. Never noticed. You say you killed everyone?" The guy didn't seem fazed at all. Charon looked at Flood for her response.

She smirked. "You seem pretty calm about me killin' all your buddies," she said. "Do I smell a back story?"

"Naw, just decided to spend time here. I ain't got no allegiance to anyone down here," he said. He stood up and pocketed the caps he'd gotten from the corpses. "I'm called Smiling Jack. Need any trading done?"

Flood couldn't have been happier.

* * *

><p>"And that's how we killed the Behemoth."<p>

Smiling Jack was wiping down the chest guard Flood wore under her snake jacket. Charon refused to have his gun touched by anyone else but him. The trader seemed insulted, but Flood distracted him with a Behemoth story. The one out front seemed to catch his attention and Flood had a good time speaking of her adventure.

"You suck at storytelling, you know that?" Smiling Jack laughed. Flood looked at him, but only shrugged.

"Give a girl some credit. Word is we aren't all good at talking." Flood waved her hand in dismissal. "I can't tell stories but I know what people like to hear."

Jack laughed. "Amen to that! Beer?"

The pair declined. Flood already had whiskey in her hand and Charon opted to stay as sober as possible. Smiling Jack, however, had already drank five or six, and was losing his balance as he grabbed another from the fridge.

Flood caught sight of his shotgun. "Quite the hardware, the shotgun." The modifications on it were eye opening, and it looked well cared for.

Smiling Jack seemed flattered. "Modified her myself. I call her The Terrible Shotgun!" As unoriginal as Flood deemed it to be, the shining finish on the barrel is what caught her good eye. Smiling Jack held it up for the both of them to see, showing them the thinner barrel for concentrated fire, the improved sights for easier visibility, and the added texture on the barrel grip for kickback support. "Nearly doubles the damage of a normal shotgun like your ghoul pal's there. Long as you're close enough, it'll knock the head offa any guy you come across."

"That's quite the weapon," Charon admitted aloud. "My modifications don't include the thin barrel. Where did you find the tools for the change?"

"Trade secret that ain't for sale, bub!" he said with alcoholic mirth in his tone and settled the gun down on the counter. Flood kept her eye on it while he spoke. Something was going through her mind, Charon noticed, and he felt like it wasn't going to be more moral than before.

Flood cleared her throat as Jack downed another beer. "If the secret ain't for sale, is the gun?" Charon looked at his employer. Was she planning on wielding a shotgun on her own? It wouldn't be very strategic of her to sport a close range weapon. Her ranged methods covering his closer tactics weren't tasteful for her.

"No way, girlie!" he laughed. "This gun is my pride and joy. I ain't gonna give it up for all the caps in the world!"

She tsked. "What a shame. I'm sure my friend could've used it in the long run." Charon raised a brow muscle at her words. "He does love his shotguns."

Smiling Jack dropped the last bottle and burped. "Shame for you, maybe."

Charon stood suddenly and raised his gun toward the entrance to the little shop. Raiders shouted for their lost friends and fuck-buddies, and as a group of them got closer, Flood stood as well. "There's no way we can leave without them seeing us," she said quietly. "Behind the counter!" Before she ducked down, she put her finger to her lips and shushed the drunken man sitting on the lawn chair. He seemed to be confused, but that was all Charon saw before he ducked down silently next to Flood.

Her hip bumped his, and his breath moved her hair. They didn't seem to notice the close quarters despite the long island, but they kept quiet if they did. If Charon looked closer, he could probably see the small burn of a blush on her cheeks. Though he could've if he tried, there was a job at hand and a danger to protect her from.

"Yo, Jackey boy!" a raider shouted into the cave. Two or three pairs of boots shuffled their way in. Smiling Jacked burped. "Everyone out there's dead, man! You see the guys who did this?!" Charon guessed they were slightly high due to their inebriated ability to understand that Smiling Jack being the only survivor wasn't just a stroke of luck.

And it had seemed their luck had run out in that place, for Jack merely hiccupped and pointed to the counter behind him. "Back there," he slurred.

Flood had slipped a grenade around the corner as he said the words, and the "slightly drugged" raiders hadn't noticed the small ball rolling towards them, though the sound had them raise their guns. Without warning, an explosion sounded through the caves, turning the heads of all the newly arriving raiders. Where had it come from? Smiling Jack's cave, that's where! They rushed toward the pocket in the cave and found nothing but smoke and small flaming limbs severed from their owner's bodies. Equally without warning, gunfire purged through the grey clouds before them and impaled them with metallic death in all of the right places.

Within minutes, the cave was cleared and looted again. Charon walked ahead with a new shotgun while Flood walked by his side with a Sniper Rifle slung over her shoulder.


	7. Chapter 7: Florescence

**REVIEWS:**

_**Immortal13100**__: Thank you! It means a lot to read that! To answer your question, yes. We will see other companions, but to have them travel with her is a mystery...I'm very appreciative of your praise, it means I'm doing well and I'm entertaining you well enough! Hope you enjoy the story as you go!_

_**FloodFeSTeR**__: Thank you for the review! Here is more story for you!_

* * *

><p>I've also noticed a few mistakes in the last chapter. I want to point out that Flood's LEFT eye is out, not the right. I accidentally switched them on accident, but if you can point out any mistakes I make while we go through, let me know so I can either correct it or tell you guys about it.<p>

The rooms were blue. The lights cast a fluorescent calm color upon all of the rooms, blinding the primal senses with peace. One could lie in the tranquility pods without a fear in the world. The people inside slept within good dreams as their hair fell away and their limbs decayed from atrophy. But nobody cared. The robots did their routines, the Overseer rotted away in his own administrative pod, and the dust particles couldn't give a care for what happened around them. Anger almost seemed impossible in those rooms.

Until Flood and Charon broke the silence. The screeching of the metal wheel of a door echoed like nails on a chalkboard. The bass of the sound rumbled the floors and flickered the blue lights. The last hissing of the door mechanism ceased, then it was footsteps. Prints of dirty combat boots trailed from the outside and the clean, calm feeling tried its hardest, but to no avail.

Flood wasn't fooled by the serene feeling, she'd always rejected the ruse growing up, much like other people. Charon was new to it, but his employer was far more important. He couldn't afford to be calm. The halls of the Vault were too clean, so there was doubt there were threats inside the Vault, but they'd been fooled before. It cost Flood her eyesight and gave Charon a bruised muscle in his leg not twelve hours prior.

With guns raised and safeties off, they proceeded forward after receiving their jumpsuits 202.3 years late. Charon had outright refused to wear the material and walked on with it thrown over his shoulder. Flood threw the one given to her at him and walked on without giving the thing a second thought. If she could help it, she'd never wear it again. Charon knew this without her saying anything. She didn't need to.

Inside the Vault, there were pods; large, but only enough for one person to fit at a time. Around these pods was a medical wing and a near empty equipment room, and on the second floor there was the Overseer's office and the exit. While Charon attempted to open the door to his office, Flood was inspecting the pods and the terminals they were connected to. The door Charon was trying to open needed a key, something he doubted he would find in a sealed up place like that. Though, in case of emergency, he may have hidden it for the bots to find. He suspected the Overseer had a pod. It would make sense. The man would get lonely on his own.

"Charon!" Flood called. He abandoned his post and made his way to her. He stopped at the balcony and saw Flood in the Vault suit and opening a pod. Before he could ask why, she answered his question. "He's two pods down from me, I don't think the Overseer will be thrilled, but there's got to be a failsafe. Always is in simulations, Dad said."

Charon felt uncomfortable with the idea. Obviously the people inside hadn't left in a very long time. Was there a guarantee there was a fail safe? "There may be a mechanism in the Overseer's office, but we need to find the terminal key."

Flood groaned. "There's no guarantee there's a key around here."

"Then we can look for it anyway! There must be something. The Overseer cannot be left unattended!" If it weren't obvious that Charon did not approve of the idea. How could Flood put him through this distress? He didn't feel comfortable with the idea of not being able to defend her while in that catatonic state. "You would be on your own in there, where I cannot make sure I am within the boundaries of my contract! If you die or are stuck there forever, I cannot guarantee your safety as my contract states I do."

There was a moment of silence after his words. He leaned on the railing, relaxing. Flood watched as he sighed a breath of carbon dioxide. The blue was getting to him. It was only making her tense, expecting people to come around the corner and flash a switchblade before beating her to the ground. Nosebleed, animal, dike...

"Why do you care?" she asked. Charon hummed in question. "It's would be my own self-destructive decision, something your contract plainly states you cannot defend me from. You cannot resist my will, even if it kills me. Slight loophole."

He scoffed. "I am aware of my contractual boundaries."

She shrugged. "Yes, but wouldn't it be nice if I were dead and you could go live your life without restraint?" Flood hopped up on the step and extended a cord from the arm rest. "Regardless, I do appreciate you here. Hate me or whatever, nothin's gonna change that, but if you decide you want to investigate that key for the office, go ahead. It'll be nice having a way out unlike these people."

"Flood, I don't recommend-" He was about to hop the railing and to keep her out.

"Don't let anyone else out but me and my dad if you can help it. They're suffering from muscle atrophy and they'll just die anyway." She was plugged in and halfway inside by then.

Charon hopped down and charged towards the thing while it was descending. "Flood, stop! _Stop_!" But he knew it wouldn't. She smirked at him and flicked a cigarette butt out just as it closed. He couldn't hear her words after it closed. His fists hit the glass as he yelled for her to open it. "I can't help you in there, I can't save you!"

But she was gone. Flood's eyes had fazed and glossed over as she watched a screen. The veins around her Pip-Boy turned purple and, with a final shudder, she relaxed in her seat.

* * *

><p>The key was hard to find. He'd looked everywhere before finding it, noting that it was more than likely always the last place you look. The equipment room was the last place Charon searched endlessly, while the medical bay was where he expected. It would be a medical emergency if anyone needed to get up there. Beggars couldn't be choosers, he decided, and opened the door.<p>

The first thing he saw was the Overseer's pod. It contained a decrepit old man, skin hanging from bone and very little tissue was seen through, much like the other people in the pods downstairs. He looked as dead as them, however. There was also one locker and a desk sitting unused in the corner, clean as a newborn Vault baby.

Though the furniture was clean and the man in the pod was alive, nothing stopped Charon from throwing the locker across the room in a rage, not even the calm blue fluorescent lights.

Hours had passed and he'd succumbed to cleaning his gun once more for the ninth time. Every so often, he'd watch the pod Flood was in and feel his heart jump with anticipation. Maybe she'd come out soon. Maybe she'd slam her fist against the glass gasping for air as he attempted to break the plexiglass while her face turned as purple as the veins on her arm-

Charon hasn't realized he was slamming the butt of his gun against the glass. He drew back, looking at her face, barely blinking and neutral. Her blind eye kept welling tears since she'd gone in. Was she crying or was she having a reaction? Charon didn't know. He wished he did. He wished she'd come out sooner than later and be fine, breathing and all. He wanted to see her wayward smirk and hear her give him orders. He wanted her back.

What?

Charon backed away from the pod and backed against the Think Tank connecting the pods to the center. That was not how he should've been thinking of his employer. He should've been waiting patiently for her. He should not be wishing for her back like a stupid, Pre-War school girl. That was not how he should act and she would agree! Charon could just hear her now. "Charon, you need to keep your mind on the game." That or she'd freak out and scream at him for being vulgar and for outstepping his contractual obligations and guidelines. Sit down and wait, he could imagine her saying. Sit down, wait and clean for god's sake.

So he sat down and cleaned his new gun for the tenth time.

* * *

><p>Her father was younger than he figured. Charon didn't know Flood's age, but she had to be twenty five or so. Mr. Flood had curled peppering hair with facial hair to compliment it. He was wrinkling, which was normal, but the man didn't look a day over forty. He had a white lab coat and a similar Pip Boy as Flood. His sleeve wasn't rolled up, so Charon couldn't see the purple veins that were on everyone else's arms. It occurred to Charon, as he was perched on the edge of the man's pod, that this was the guy that made Flood's life unpleasant from the moment he ran off. He wanted to say her entire life, but she refused to speak of it, so he couldn't judge.<p>

He stepped down from the step and paced between pods. If Flood ordered it, and he hoped she would, he would shoot the man in a heartbeat. Though the notion seemed uncanny and wasteful of their efforts, Charon would understand the need for vengeance. Her silence on life in the Vault had him assuming the worst. Perhaps they also had pods like the ones they were locked in, but less a prison and more a simulation. Like a game. Charon remembered being in a game once, within a pod less sophisticated but had equal purpose.

That was decades ago, however, and that didn't matter.

Charon felt like sleeping, but he had to stay awake for Flood. He needs to keep watch, make sure no one comes in through the Vault door they'd left open. Maybe he could use one of his napping techniques for when he worked at The Ninth Circle. The bar had never closed, so he was forced to stand constantly, and only sat at the dead hours of the night. He slept with his eyes open by that point, and had gotten a considerable amount in when it counted. So Charon did what he did best. Sat across from Flood's pod with his back against the Think Tank and drooped his eyelids. A quick nap was all he needed. Flood would wake him if she needed him.

Wouldn't she?

Charon blinked himself awake. He remembered she'd said something before going comatose inside the damn capsule. He didn't know what she said; he couldn't hear her. Could she hear him banging on the glass? Would he hear her if he were to shut his eyes? He rubbed his gloved hand over his peeling face and waited. With his eyes open. Absorbing the fluorescence silently and slowly.

* * *

><p>The hissing had snapped him to full attention. It wasn't Flood's pod, it was the one two down from her; Mr. Flood. Charon pushed himself from his place near Flood and moved toward the man waking from his comatose. He watched as Mr. Flood hunched over the edge of the pod and retched bile and the mushy remains of food. He scrunched his nose muscles in disgust. The smell was foul for his dulled sense of smell.<p>

He began to wonder what Mr. Flood thought of ghouls and their rotting flesh ordeal. Was he just like every bigot out there or was he like his daughter, sympathetic to ghoul-kind and intolerant of people who believed he wasn't human? As Mr. Flood tumbled to the floor in a heap, Charon wished Flood would have told him what her father was like. Perhaps he wouldn't be so nervous to meet the man that gave this world his daughter and thus indirectly freeing Charon from his station in The Ninth Circle. Flood's machine gave no warning to her emerging, so Charon moved toward the conscious man.

James Flood had never been one to throw up nothing. No matter the amount of food he'd eaten or the radiation he'd absorbed, James had always had a reason to throw up. Waking up after a sleep for God knows how long was not one of the ways to hurl nothing. Neither was he the man to let a shotgun be pointed in his face for no good reason, if any at all. The ghoul loomed over him like Tenpenny Tower up close, or the D.C. remnants. He may as well have puked on the man's boots. They were too shiny for the Wasteland.

Between the time they'd acquainted each other and the next pod hissing, no words had been spoken. Charon merely glared at the offending man as he kneeled on the floor over his vomit. The next pod caused Charon to turn his head, but when he did James hopped up, despite his weakness, and tackled him to the ground. Charon had his gun thrown to the side unceremoniously and carelessly. He was upset by the lack of care for his new gun, but that thought was quickly crushed by the man's fist colliding with his jaw. Despite the weakness in James' arms, he still packed a punch. Charon grabbed the next fist and rolled him over, hitting him with the fist he'd caught and throwing a punch of his own.

The sound of Flood's retching went unnoticed by the men as they fought. She pulled herself out with caution, feeling weakness in herself as well. The sight of her father being beaten to a pulp by Charon made her chuckle lightly before making an attempt to grab a cigarette. Except it was difficult because her limbs felt like jelly. Flood blinked and watched them for a moment longer. Shouldn't she be upset at the sight of her father being attacked? What had set Charon off, if Charon started it at all? And even then, was her father a bigot?

A quick whistle broke their tussle, and Flood spoke up. "My arms aren't working right. Need a cigarette."

In seconds, Charon was up and walking towards his employer. If that's what she wanted, that's what she got. James moved himself into a better position before the ghoul could change his mind. He watched him dig through a backpack near her and dig out a whole carton of cigarettes before slipping one between her lips and lighting it for her. The small lighter was one of the cheap, replaceable ones that people had all over the place. The ghoul took his place kneeling by Flood as she leaned against the pod and smoked. She asked him why they were fighting, and Charon answered.

"I was not sure of his character before he had awoken from the pod, and had armed myself for the worst, but he took advantage of a distraction and attacked." Very polite, professional, and to the point. It was commendable and noteworthy, but not normal by any means. Ghouls don't just swear their loyalty to smooth skins. Or anybody for that matter. Was there a deal going on that James was not aware of? Perhaps there was some back story.

"Honey," he said, his voice rough from disuse. "It's so good to see you, but what are you doing here?" If she seemed attached to the man, then it'd be best not to bring up the fighting.

Flood made no motion to answer. Instead she flexed her fingers and breathed smoke through her nostrils. When had she started smoking? James had suspected she'd been smoking in the Vault but she hadn't given him any clues. It was the smell, but she'd always been having run ins with Butch DeLoria. He smoked constantly when he could.

The ghoul beside her sat quietly, waiting for his next order. Was he a slave? Helen hated the concept of it when she learned about it in class. This didn't look like his little girl, his little Helen. Her hair was cut short, but not as short as it was in the Vault. It was at her jawline and she had her bangs over her left eye. Her right eye was cold, ruthless, angry. "I wanted answers. But I got them on my way here." Flood flicked the cigarette butt in his direction before continuing. "You left for a hopeless goal that won't let you be a father at the same time. Did you really think I wouldn't follow you? That someone wouldn't?"

"Helen, I-"

Charon spoke up. "She doesn't answer to that name anymore. You will refer to her as Flood." He was no more friendlier to him than James' own daughter was.

James stumbled to his feet. "You cannot tell me what to call my own daughter," he said. "_Helen_ is the name her mother and I gave her and that's how it's going to stay! No matter what she thinks of me!"

Flood blew smoke from her nostrils and took another breath of cancer. She stood, her legs shaking from the lack of use as she balanced herself on Charon's arm. "How long was I in there?" she asked.

"I'm not sure, I lost track of time."

She looked at her Pip-Boy briefly before looking up at her father. "When did you go in the Pod?"

James looked at his too. He measured it to be a few weeks. Strange how time passed in that simulation. Braun knew how to give someone a strange sense of time. Always was it daylight in its monochrome appearance and never did he sleep in there. The Tranquility Pod certainly had ways of preserving the people inside, though that was to be expected. In case the radiation levels dropped below lethal to let people come out. Though, he suspected Braun never had any intention of having people ever leave intact.

"I asked you a question," Flood repeated, gathering her pack from the floor and walking towards him.

James crossed his arms. "Look, I know you're upset, but I left you there so you could be safe. The Wasteland was too dangerous, it wasn't a life I wanted for you!"

Flood stopped in her tracks just before the toes of her boots hit her father's and shoved a box of Salisbury Steak into his chest. "I've been in there for three days. You've been in there longer. Eat the fucking food before I have Charon force feed you." Before James could reply, she turned her back to him and walked toward the Medical Bay. "I'm going to go change, and then we're leaving."

"Flood, you have been in a comatose state for three days. I recommend you rest," Charon said as he went to stand by the door a she changed.

She took a moment to think about it before shutting and locking the automatic door behind her. Though nothing was said in return, Charon stood by the door and loaded his shotgun, prepared to shoot if the man tackled him again.

The other man, however, held knelt down and was heating the microwavable steak bit by bit with a propane lighter, taking small bites as the temperature and radiation would allow. The first few minutes of awkward silence was, well awkward. Charon watched James eat the steak as he could while stomaching it, and James thought of possible apologies to Charon for attacking him while chewing the cud in the steak.

"So, uh...my daughter hired you?" James asked. Charon merely nodded. He had no interest in wasting his breath on this being. "With caps? How much? Is she treating you well?" He asked these things as if Charon were Flood's boyfriend, except she had a track record of abusing her love interests. Which wasn't doubtful after knowing her for as long as he did.

Charon didn't say a word. He listened to the rustling of the leather bags and the heavy cough of his employer. He imagined she'd refuse food for a while longer. Perhaps out of spite for her father. He couldn't figure out what time it was, but Charon predicted she'd only eat once they stopped walking outside. After dark was a common time for Charon and herself to stop, but with this new addition to their group...

The door opened behind Charon and there was Flood in her usual ripped jeans and leather jacket. The duster was draped over her shoulder and the leather Tunnel Snakes jacket on her back. "We're leaving. Get up." James stood and Charon shouldered his gun. Flood passed her bag to him and she unholstered her rifle from her back. "Have a weapon?" she asked James.

"Yes, I have a few."

"Good."

Charon led the way with Flood at his side and James at the rear. The corpses of the mole rats littered the little garage that hid the blue fluorescent calm and suddenly, with the closing of the Vault doors, no one was calm. Inside or out. Dead or alive.


End file.
